


Broken Glass

by rhodee



Series: Anti Team Cap (but mostly, just Anti Cap) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Tony Stark, Civil War Team Iron Man, Confrontations, Gen, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Mild Blood, Not Clint Friendly, Not Steve Friendly, Not Wanda Friendly, Post-Betrayal, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Needs a Hug, not team Cap friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodee/pseuds/rhodee
Summary: Apparently every Tom, Dick and Harry has access to Tony workshop - except for Steve.
Relationships: Loki & Tony Stark, Loki/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Series: Anti Team Cap (but mostly, just Anti Cap) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767649
Comments: 992
Kudos: 2401
Collections: Team Iron Man/Anti Steve, Waiting For Updates - Marvel, Waiting for updates





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Got a tiny lil idea in my head that pretty much turned into the first chapter for a fic.  
> Also, this is very very team Iron Man. I'm clearly still salty about a movie from four years ago.

Three months. 

That’s how long it took for the Ex-Avengers to accept the Accords. Altered with a few of their personal demands, of course. Natasha pointed out that, even if Ross wasn’t entirely on-board with their pardons, his superiors were more than likely to be desperate for their return. 

They knew how to play their hand. After all, the Avengers were the only ones who were capable enough: they saved New York, saved Sokovia from Ultron and even helped eradicate HYDRA. That was essentially their resume - that they are the _only_ ones who can do it, so you can take it or leave it. 

The government took it. 

Three months. 

The Avengers Compound looks the same as the day he had left. He had expected Tony to at least make some changes, if not outside, then inside. Three months was a long time to go without any form of renovation for a building that houses Earth’s mightiest defenders. 

“At least he fixed the kitchen,” Clint says from beside him, heading straight for the refrigerator. Steve looks over to Bucky, and there’s a strange expression on his face as he takes in the surroundings. His right hand is rubbing the area on his other shoulder where metal meets skin, and Steve suddenly remembers Bucky mentioning a discomfort in his arm. Tony could look into that.

“I’m surprised he even bothered,” Wanda sneers in response to Clint, sliding into one of the seats by the kitchen island in hopes that the archer would pull out something to eat. Her craving seems to be in vain, because after a few seconds of looking into the refrigerator, Clint slams it shut. 

“There’s no fuckin’ food!” 

“ _Stark,”_ Wanda hisses, turning her to glare at Steve. “This is his doing.” 

“I’ll talk to him,” Steve tries to console, but even he can’t help the slight irritation swelling up inside him. Stark knew they were coming - had been informed of it a week before they had left. Stark had more than enough time to equip the Compound with the required necessities. If it were anything related to Rhodes or Pepper, Steve was sure Tony wouldn’t have hesitated to be of use. This was more than just selfishness, it was plain childish. “Meanwhile, FRIDAY, could you order some takeaway for us? And tell Tony we’re here.” 

“ ** _Yes, Captain Rogers, what would you like?_ **” Comes the reply in the familiar voice of the AI, and Steve can’t help but notice how the AI chose not to acknowledge the second part of his request. 

“Pepperoni!” Clint answers for him, and when the others don’t show any disagreement, Steve clarifies for FRIDAY. “Make that four pepperoni pizzas. From Little Caesars, if you can.” 

“ ** _Your total will be $28.99. I am told it will arrive in approximately 45 minutes._** _”_

“Um. It’s already paid for, right?” Steve asks, unsure of why FRIDAY was telling them the price. They had ordered food from her countless times, but this is the first time that she’s mentioned the price. 

“ ** _I’m sorry. By who?_ ** ” And - _what_? That wasn’t what he had expected. Was Stark out-rightly refusing to pay for their food? 

“By your dear _boss!_ Where is he anyway? Stuck in his lab, or stuck in his ass?” Clint snaps, looking up at the ceiling as he tries to figure out where FRIDAY’s sensors are. 

“ ** _Mr. Barton, I would appreciate you not taking a hostile tone against my boss. The revised Accords have explicitly stated the financing process. Am I right to assume you have not gone through them, when it was your team who had forced the changes?_ **” Steve thinks he’s imagining it, but he can swear FRIDAY’s voice had turned cold, bordering defensive, even.

“Of course we went through them!” The response from Clint comes almost immediately, and Steve doesn’t bother pushing down the guilt. 

_No,_ they actually _hadn’t_. Not thoroughly anyway, especially not the financing part - because when had Tony ever refused his resources? It was obvious that Tony would be funding them. 

“Hey, it’s fine,” Sam speaks up in an attempt to control the situation. “I’ll pay for it. I don’t think lashing out at Tony’s AI is going to help us.” 

“Don’t try to humanize him by calling him _Tony,”_ Wanda doesn’t hold back the spite in her words as she continues, “He’s trying to make us _suffer._ This is our home too. We have a right to be here, just as we have a right to its facilities.” 

She’s right, Steve thinks. This is clearly Tony trying whatever he can to make their stay difficult without being obvious about it. It’s not a small thing that they can ignore, neither is it that much of a big issue that Steve needs to take it to the Accords council. Tony’s clearly operating on the grey area that he’s exploited. 

An hour into their arrival at the Compound, Steve was giving Bucky a tour of the building when he catches an unfamiliar figure making their way through the corridors. It was just a glimpse, but Steve knew enough to know it wasn’t an Avenger. He doesn’t hesitate before he starts chasing after the stranger - what if there was an intruder in the Compound? Maybe they had taken down FRIDAY. 

“ _Hey!_ ” Steve calls out, just as the stranger turns a corner. He recognizes it as the way to the private elevator that accesses Tony’s workshop. Bucky’s a few feet behind him, clearly not committing that much to the intruder. He turns the corner just as the stranger presses the button for the elevator. 

“Stop right there,” Steve commands, slowing down to a stop. The stranger only partially glances back, a bored look lining his face. He raises an eyebrow at Steve, which slightly ticks him off. 

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” 

“Brad,” The guy replies as if it should make sense, the word flowing out of his mouth as if he hadn’t bothered with a second of worry. 

“That’s Tony Stark’s private elevator. Only close friends and family are allowed there.” Steve tries again, realizing that the man wasn’t going to say anything more after his name. He looks fairly young - dark hair, grey eyes that shine a little too wicked for Steve’s liking. Brad doesn’t look familiar at all, and there’s an aura about him that’s unsettling. 

“Well, I should hope so.” The guy says in an obvious act of innocence - wide eyes that are almost mocking Steve. He feels Bucky’s presence behind him, and that gives him a slight push to assert his dominance over the stranger - _Brad._

“I must ask you to leave. We are the Avengers, this is our building.” He takes a step forward, his words borderline threatening. Behind Brad, the elevators slide open with a _ding._ That can't be possible - FRIDAY won't just allow anybody like that. There’s a slow smirk forming on Brad’s face as he steps backward into the elevator. 

“You may want to double check on that,” Brad says, sounding all too innocent, but there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes. Steve lunges forward - _maybe he can reach the doors, if he could just -_ but the doors close as soon as Steve’s about to take the last step. He would have nearly slammed into the elevator doors had he not stopped himself on time.

“ _FRIDAY!_ You have to warn Tony- there’s someone-” Steve looks up at the ceiling, frantic, but the AI cuts him off. 

“ ** _Mr. Brad has access to boss’ workshop, Captain. I doubt it would be necessary to warn my boss unless there’s a threat._** ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve only sees what he wants to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought you might like a Bucky POV :D

Steve is quite literally fuming as he marches back to the kitchen, and Bucky feels he has no choice but to stay in tow. The rest of his friends were halfway through the pizzas when Steve enters, and they immediately register the irritation in his face. 

“What’s up, Cap?” Scott is the first to speak as he holds out a slice of pizza. “Anything a slice of pepperoni could help?” 

From what Bucky has observed, Scott Lang is the only one who doesn’t really _fit._ He’s too chirpy, too easy-going, and even if he has any trauma, it was too well hidden behind the mask of what Bucky can only call a joker. 

Scott’s quip isn’t really appreciated, judging by the quick glare that Clint and Wanda shoot him before turning their attention to Steve. 

“What happened?” Wanda asks, a threat in her voice. Bucky notices there’s always a threat in her words, but he isn’t too sure what to make of that. According to Steve, she’s a misunderstood young girl. 

According to Bucky, Steve only sees what he wants to see. 

“Tony’s _here._ ” Steve says, his tone drifting towards accusatory. “He’s locked himself in his workshop, and he’s just letting _strangers_ into his private elevator.” He turns his attention to Natasha. “Do we know someone called Brad?” 

“What’s he look like?” She asks, but Bucky knows she’s stalling, that she doesn’t know. He’s been around enough spies and undercover agents to know the signs. 

Steve shrugs, “I don’t know. Normal?” He turns to Bucky, as if he would know more. When Steve realizes he won’t get anything from Bucky, he shifts back to Natasha. 

“That’s not a lot to go on, Cap. Maybe it’s an SI employee.” She reaches forward to take another pizza, apparently marking the end of her part in the conversation. 

“No, he wasn’t SI. He was being extremely rude to me and Bucky,” Steve says, and Bucky doesn’t really like the fact that Steve pulled him into it when he wasn’t even there for the first half of the interaction. He doesn’t comment, though. 

“Maybe he just didn’t like someone interfering with his business?” Sam points out, and it sounds like a jab that Steve remains completely oblivious to. The rest of them did notice, but didn’t say anything. Probably because Sam paid for all their pizzas. 

“No it’s not that - he was being hostile before I even asked his name.” Steve turns to Bucky. “Tell them.” 

“Dunno. I arrived late,” is all he says. From the corner of his eye, he can see Steve frown. 

“We can just ask him when he leaves. He’s not going to stay down there forever,” Clint snorts before adding, “especially not with Stark’s signature pump and dump.” There’s a joke in there somewhere, because there’s a wave of stifled laughter before Wanda speaks. 

“If he doesn’t tell us, I can just make him.” Steve nods at that, as if it’s a reasonable approach. Bucky has to take a moment to wonder when his former best friend turned into someone who accepted mind-control being misused like that. Especially when he knew Bucky was a victim of the same. 

Steve only sees what he wants to see. 

The wait for Brad to return couldn’t go any slower. Steve managed to coerce Bucky into behind his right-hand man as they scoured the Compound corridors in the pretense of a ‘walk.’ His friend was going through one of his reproving monologues - about trust, and team, and Tony and basic decency - which went into one ear and out the other. The longer that Bucky spends with Steve, the more perceptive Tony’s choices became. 

They turn a T corner just as Brad approaches, whose face easily slips into a mask of complacence. 

“I was wondering when you’d return,” the guy drawls, seemingly immune to the way Steve just puffed out his chest. From over Brad’s shoulder, he can see Wanda and Clint approaching from a distance. Steve spots them too, so he takes on a more minatory tone. 

“This will go much easier for you if you cooperate with us.” Brad catches the shift of their gazes, and follows it to where Wanda and Clint are nearing. 

“ _Lovely_ ,” Brad grins as he turns to Steve. “You bought company.” There’s something unsettling in his words that Bucky can’t put a finger on. “I would hardly think myself important enough to be tackled by two super soldiers, a former assassin _and_ a telepathic murderer.” 

Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever seen Steve deflate that fast. He composes quickly, however, taking another step forward and consuming any space between Brad and him. 

“She is not a murderer. It would do you good to think before you speak.” Steve rebuts, and Wanda’s close enough to hear Brad’s response. 

“Hm, I suppose the 26 civilians in Lagos just happened to die while the Witch activated an explosion in their building.” Brad seems entirely unconcerned with the impact of his words, and that inadvertently worries Bucky. There are red tendrils bleeding through Wanda’s fingers, eyes blazing in red rage as her magic penetrates the man’s mind. 

“ _How dare you?”_ She hisses. She starts walking around Brad, murderous eyes fixed on the young man who seemed to be in a trance - eyes glazed and rooted to his spot. This is _wrong._ This is _wrong_ and too _familiar_.

“Stop it.” Bucky’s voice comes out in a whisper. Steve seems to be the only one who hears him, unless Wanda just ignored him. Clint just stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, seemingly unperturbed by the turn of events. 

“Buck - he was _disrespecting_ us.” Steve explains as way of justification for his and Wanda’s actions. Bucky looks at Steve, and there wasn’t an ounce of guilt he could see in his friends eyes. For him, this was _right._

“He was telling his truth.” Bucky says. Steve frowns, and Wanda’s gaze snaps to him - red still swirling within. 

“Quite right!” Brad pipes up, and all four pairs of eyes snap to him. Wanda’s gaze flickers down to her hands in a second of confusion, which Brad uses to shove past Steve - on purpose? Bucky can’t say - and turn the corner. Clint lets out a low curse and follows Brad. 

“Wanda, are you okay?” Steve asks, moving to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I- I- I don’t-” She stammers, looking at her hands in disbelief. Red tendrils are still leaking through her hands, which means her powers are intact. Bucky’s confused now - there’s no reason for concern. 

“I don’t know what happened.” Wanda looks up at Steve, her eyes transitioning back to grey-green as they widen in innocent confusion. 

Clint comes jogging back, chest heaving. “He’s gone. There’s no sign of him.” 

“What?” Steve stands up straight, and then glances up. “FRIDAY, where’s Brad?” 

**_“Mr. Brad has left the premises.”_ **

“What? How…” Steve trails off, looking at the way that Brad had left. Bucky immediately connects the dots - he remembers Steve telling that exit to the Compound was at the end of the corridor, which would have required Brad to walk straight ahead instead of taking the left turn. He also distinctly remembers Steve positioning Natasha at the Compound’s entrance. 

**_“I assume he left just as everyone would - through the front door.”_ ** A deliberate pause, and then: **_“Captain.”_ **

“That doesn’t make sense. He took the wrong way - why didn’t we see him?” 

**_“That seems to be a personal problem. May I suggest an ophthalmologist?”_ **

Bucky wants to say that the suggestion will only fly over Steve’s head. 

Steve only sees what he wants to see. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets quite the wake-up call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda maybe definitely loved writing this :D  
> Also, I've read all your comments, and I'm so glad you guys are liking it so far! I'm a bit busy with other things at home which is why I haven't gotten a chance to reply, but I definitely will soon!  
> I love reading your comments, thank you so much for such an amazing response! :)

James Rhodes had just gotten into his car, headed for home after a long day with the Accords Council, when his phone rings. The number is unknown, and there’s a strange feeling that it won’t be a bearer of good news. 

\--

The call is answered on the second ring, followed by a curt “ _Yes?”_

Steve relaxes, thankful that Rhodey’s number hadn’t changed from when he’d scribbled it into his notebook some two years ago. 

“Rhodey. Hey, it’s Steve.” 

_“Sorry?”_ There’s an underlying formality to the words, and Steve wonders if Rhodey was expecting another Steve. So he clarifies. It makes sense - they’ve never really interacted much, so Steve was probably the last person Rhodey expected to be calling him. 

“Rogers. It’s Steve Rogers.” There’s a silence, and then: 

_“Mr. Rogers,”_ The name comes out stiffly. _“What can I do for you?”_

“Sorry, is this a bad time? I can call back another time if-”

 _“It’s not a bad time, but I’d appreciate it if you got to your point faster.”_ Steve chooses against questioning why, not wanting to make a futile attempt at placating Stark’s best friend who more than likely knew what happened in Siberia. 

“I was wondering if you were planning to come by the Compound anytime soon? It’s just - we haven’t heard anything from anyone outside of the team - except for Ross, and we thought it would be nice to see you or Vision.” Steve takes a pause, and then hesitantly. “Um. Do you know where Vision is? Wanda feels guilty with the way she left things, she wanted to apologize.” 

_“Apologize to?”_

“Vision.” 

_“I see,”_ comes Rhodey’s reply, and it doesn’t sound like he was too pleased with Steve’s answer. Steve’s just about to add a conciliated response when Rhodey continues, _“Vision is his own person. If he wants to meet Wanda or the rest of the team, he’ll come. If not, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about it.”_

“Maybe he doesn’t know we’ve returned,” Steve presses, only slightly annoyed at Rhodey’s dismissal. “If you could just reach out to-” 

_“I assure you, Mr. Rogers, everyone is informed of your pardons and your return to the Compound. If someone chooses against contacting you, I trust it’s their private matter.”_

Steve doesn’t really know how to respond to that. He can either continue trying to grasp the straws, or try to approach Rhodes by pulling a different card. He goes for the second one. 

_“Now if we’re done-”_

“I’m sorry, James. I just don’t think it’s fair. We’re a team - we’ve fought together, we looked after each other and helped each other. I know for a fact that Tony’s deliberately avoiding me and the rest of the team - he’s even letting random strangers down to his workshop.” Steve suddenly remembers one of the conditions they had demanded while the Accords were being altered for their return - pointed out by Natasha, who had apparently foreseen Tony’s current behavior. 

“I also know that the Accords enforces periodic interactions with members of the team, in casual conditions and during training hours. Is his behavior not a direct violation of the Accords?” 

There’s a long, insufferable sigh from Rhodes, and when he speaks, his voice is chilling. “ _Mr. Rogers, since I have no doubt Miss Romanoff went through the Accords with a fine-toothed comb, I’m sure you’re aware that the clause is only applicable to someone who is in a satisfactory physical and mental condition._

“Yes, I’m clearly aware of that,” Steve huffs. Why had he even expected Rhodes to cooperate with him? The colonel was obviously against Steve, almost blinded with his loyalty to Tony. “How does this have anything to do with Tony?” 

“ _Rogers.”_ Rhodes’ voice is deadly calm. _“I’ll need you to repeat that.”_

“I _said,_ ” Steve’s impatience is spiking, almost threatening to spill into his words as he repeats the question. “How does that have anything to do with Tony? He’s fine, he’s just refusing to cooperate with us. Honestly, I’m not even surprised at him. I _am_ surprised at you, James. I would have thought someone of your standing would be familiar with the consequences of a contract violation.”

“ _Rogers, you have got to be fucking kidding me. Have you even bothered asking Tony how he’s doing since you came back, instead of - and this is me going on a wild guess here - acting like entitled babies and expecting Tony to rush in, greet you and snap all your problems away?”_

“What are you _talking_ about? He’s fine. He would have told us if he wasn’t.” Steve frowns, partially offended that Rhodes was so quick to shift the blame to Steve and his team. He takes a moment before continuing, tone reprimanding. “ _James_ , you know Tony better than I do, and I’m sure you realize this is Tony being his usual self.” 

_“Tony Stark is on ECMO, Rogers.”_ Rhodes says, his words like acid. _“If you don’t know what that is, it’s a life support machine that provides cardiac and respiratory support because the patient’s lungs and heart are fucking_ incapable _of doing so. What the fuck did you think a Vibranium shield to the chest would do to a man in a metal suit?”_

No. Nono _nono._ This can’t be right. Tony was _fine._ He was fine, he had even gone so far as to shoot a comment about his _‘father’s shield.’_ And that was _three months_ ago - it’s more than enough time to recover. This… this is not possible. 

“You’re wrong,” Is all Steve can say, and the words sound pathetic even to him. “He would have _told_ us. We’re his _teammates_ \- why would he hide something like that from us?” 

_“Tony has rights over his health information, and it is his choice to convey it to the concerned people. I may have already broken his trust by telling you about it, but your ignorance was, quite frankly, hurting my brain.”_

“He could’ve - could have told us.” Steve protests, but he’s stumbling over his own words, mind still trying to register the sudden turn of events. He never intended to harm Tony. He wouldn’t have done it if he knew what it would do… _or would he have?_ Tony was _attacking_ his friend, clearly intent on killing him,, and _Steve -_ Steve had to stop him. Tony had _forced_ Steve into taking extreme measures. “We would have taken care of him. _Will_ take care of him. We’re his friends, his _teammates-”_

 _“Rogers, I think you’ve mistaken me for an idiot. You attempted to_ murder _Tony Stark in cold-blood while he was already in a compromised position with a weakened suit. If you think Tony would let you visit him at this point in time, when he is clearly not in a position to defend himself from another one of your childish tantrums - you have mistaken him for a damn idiot too.”_

Steve barely has the time to formulate a response before Rhodes hangs up. His brain is still trying to grapple with the situation, _still trying to make sense of it_ , because this is _Tony Stark._ As conceited and ignorant as the man was, he would have found _some_ way to recover faster. Not… three _months._

Steve hadn’t even pushed the shield that hard - just enough to damage the arc reactor. He couldn’t risk Tony coming after them, couldn't risk Tony coming after _Bucky._

But… this is Tony _Stark._ He’s always had a flair for the dramatic, didn’t he? Always making a bigger issue out of things, always stroking his own ego. 

He’ll strut out of his elevator any minute now, it’s only a matter of time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda hate doing this to Tony, kinda love doing this to Steve :-)


	4. Chapter 4

Steve waits a day. 

There is still no communication from Tony, and to make it worse FRIDAY’s answers are framed in circles that only confuses Steve even more. He’s fairly suspicious that Tony did something to FRIDAY that made her more hostile towards Steve and the team. 

He doesn’t call Rhodes back either, which leaves him in quite a spot of confusion on how to contact Vision. It’s hard enough that he has to witness a brooding Wanda while he answers her for the _n_ th time that he doesn’t know where Vision is, nor is anyone telling him anything about Vision. 

He’s roaming the Compound looking for Natasha, passing by Scott who asks him something which Steve doesn’t really hear. He doesn’t have the time to answer Scott, he _needs_ to find Natasha, and Scott can wait. 

After 20 minutes of scouring the Compound, he finally sees her coming out of the training area with Clint, laughing at something the archer said. Soon enough, she catches sight of Steve approaching her, and then there’s a frown on her face. “What did Rhodes say?” 

“Has Tony made any public appearances the last three months?” Steve jumps right to the question. 

“Of course, he has! You think a guy who thrives off of the spotlight would...” Clint starts, but promptly trails off when he registers the expression on Natasha’s face. “Nat?” 

She looks at Clint, and then back to Steve. “Not in… physical form, no. He’s done interviews and press releases through live streams, but James Rhodes has been acting as the face of the Avengers.”

Judging by the look on Clint’s and Natasha’s face, Steve is fairly sure his face has just lost all colour. Because… if Tony actually hasn’t made any public appearances, that means Rhodes may have actually been right. Tony was _injured._ And so _heavily_ at that, that it’s taking him _months_ to recover. 

_But_ – that doesn’t explain his live appearances, because if he really was that heavily injured, he wouldn’t even have been available to the public eye.

“Cap.” Clint’s voice brings Steve back to reality. 

“Rhodes said Tony’s on life support, said he’s been on it since Siberia.” He watches as their expressions change, so he’s quick to add. “But that doesn’t make sense, does it? If he’s made online appearances? Someone would have noticed it. _We_ would have noticed it.”

“Stark could have altered the footage. He definitely has the means to.” Natasha refutes, which is a good point. Steve can’t really argue with her on that one. 

“ _Whatever_ it is, he can’t stay cooped in there forever. He’ll come out sooner or later.” Clint says as the three of them start heading to the common room. “Again, it’s _Tony Stark_ we’re talking about. He’s not necessarily known for staying in confined spaces.”

“You said he was fine when you left with Barnes.” Natasha says, and there’s a hint of accusation in her voice.

“He _was,”_ Steve insists, slightly hurt that Natasha would even accuse him of lying. “He was fine enough to tell me to drop the shield, even going so far as to bringing it up as his father’s property. _And_ he had his suit.”

_What the fuck did you think a Vibranium shield to the chest would do to a man in a metal suit?_

“He was _fine._ ” He says again, when neither of them responds. He’s not convincing them any more than he’s trying to convince himself.

He doesn’t understand why Tony’s just _refusing_ to communicate with him, with the team. _Their_ team. Tony had always been the one who’s constantly tried to look out for the team – that’s why he had sided with the Accords in the first place.

 _‘I don't wanna see you gone. We need you, Cap,’_ Tony had said, and Steve had almost agreed. Almost lifted the pen to sign it, but then it all came crashing down when Tony mentioned Wanda. And the fact that he was keeping her _prisoner_ in the compound. And, _God,_ every time that Steve thinks Tony sees it the right way, that Tony could come to terms with Steve’s perspective, that Tony could _realize_ what he’s doing wrong, he single-handedly manages to ruin it. _Every time._

And at the airport – _‘I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.’_ – because that’s what Tony does, always _have_ done. He shifts the blame – blames his ‘old man’ for nearly _everything_ that’s wrong with Tony, blames his godfather for the weapon-selling fiasco when it was Tony’s own company, blames Wanda, or rather, blames Ultron _itself,_ for creating Ultron, and blames Steve for apparently tearing the Avenger’s apart.

“Penny for your thoughts, Cap?” Clint’s voice breaks him out of his train of thoughts.

“Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“‘Bout?” Comes the reply from Clint. Natasha’s been silent for a long time. It's more disconcerting than he wants it to be.

“Tony. The team. The Accords. Everything.”

“Quite a lot to be thinking about. Besides, there’s nothing to worry about the Accords. We’re pardoned, they can’t hurt us anymore. Natasha went through it with a fine-toothed comb.” He turns to said person. “Didn’t ya?”

She nods, “They can’t do anything to us,” Steve lets out a sigh of relief, not because of her response, but because he was slightly worried that Natasha was reading too much into the situation with Tony. He doesn’t get to dwell on the relief though, “but I’m more worried about the fine-toothed comb that comes in the shape of Stark’s lawyers. He’s clearly found multiple loopholes – the fact that he hasn’t even communicated with us after our return is an obvious sign he’s planning something.”

“He wouldn’t –”

“He _would.”_ Natasha cuts Steve off with a sharp look. “Stark may be all show, but everything he’s ever done, everything he’s ever _planned_ was never made public until _he_ decided it was time.”

Clint whistles, and then looks up at the ceiling. “Think he’s playing a game of Big Brother with us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short, sorry. :(  
> Buuut, the next chapter is Tony's POV sooo, it might make do, hehe.  
> It's already written halfway, so you can expect an update within the day. :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep yep yeppity yep, I'm back.  
> Also, I just wanted to say that I love reading your perspectives, and ahhhh, it's so cool to know that you guys are actually reading in between the lines - love love love it, love love love you. (I'm very proud)  
> And, also, thank you! I'll respond to all your comments when I get some free time. :D  
> Meanwhile, enjoy a 2.5k worded Tony POV - FINALLY, YAAY! *throws confetti*

_“Tony,” Steve’s voice is cold. It feels colder than the air around them._

_“I’m sorry.” He’s helpless as he watches Steve lift his shield, higher, higher - red, blue, white, red, blue, white - and slams it down against Tony’s chest. He can feel his skin break open from the force, feel his ribs breaking under the dents of his own suit._

_“You know I wouldn’t do this if I had any other choice.” He lifts the shield again - red, blue, white - and impales Tony’s chest for the second time. The pain is excruciating. His lungs are weakened, his heart barely pumping blood. Steve lifts the shield, and Tony sees his own blood staining the curved edge of the shield - red, blue, white, red - but Steve’s eyes are blank. Distant. Emotionless._

_“But he’s my friend.” The shield pierces him for the last time - red, red, red._

_So was I, Tony thinks, wants to say it out loud, but all he can do is watch as his murderer helps his parents’ murderer stand up. His parents._

_Mission report: December 16th, 1991._

_Help my wife. Please. Help._

_Howard!_

_Howard!_

_His mom - gasping for air, as the Winter Soldier’s human hand squeezed the life out of her. His mom._ _She was the only one who called him Anthony._

_Anthony._

_“_ Anthony!”

**_“Boss’ heart rate is spiking.”_ **

“Anthony. You need to _wake up_.” 

_Anthony. Anthony. Anthony._

Tony jumps up with a start, body heaving as he takes in the surroundings. His chest hurts with every irregular breath he takes, hurts even more when he exhales. 

It’s bright. He’s indoors. There are familiar machines around him. 

It’s his workshop in the Compound. He’s alive. 

He’s _alive._

He presses a palm against the area in his chest which has a more _specific_ pain, and isn’t all too surprised to feel a warm tube emerging from where he previously had his arc reactor. 

Loki’s face soon comes into his vision, eyes wide with concern as he places a hand on Tony’s shoulder. It’s comforting. It steadies his breathing. 

“Hey,” Tony says, attempting a smile. His voice comes out croaky, so he clears his throat. “Sorry. Nightmare. You know, the works.” 

Loki’s lips tighten, eyes flashing menacingly. “Was it the Captain?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugs, and then does a double take, squinting at Loki. “Your eyes are brown.” 

The next instant, emerald green washes over brown. “It was a part of my disguise. I may be having some fun at a certain group’s expense.” The words end with a grin. 

“Yeah, I saw that, _”_ Tony lets a small laugh escape as he continues, “ _Brad.”_

He can’t risk laughing to his full extent anymore - the last time he did that, he went into cardiac arrest which ended up with a good earful from Helen Cho that Tony absolutely does not want to relive. “Who are you this time?” 

“Chad,” Loki says, eyes dancing with mirth as he pronounced the name with more emphasis than an average American. 

Tony can barely hold back his laugh, an amused approval filling his features as he replies: “ _Wow._ You’re _fast.”_

“I had help.” And then, as if on cue: 

**_“Mr. Liesmith was rather insistent, boss.”_ **

“Why am I not surprised?” Tony smiles, shaking his head as he shifts his legs to the side and stands up. Loki stands too, pulling the ECMO stand and rolling it towards Tony’s reach. 

Tony’s glad Helen took the time to create a portable ECMO machine - not light enough that he can carry it out, but not too heavy either. But it’s attached to a metal stand as tall as Tony which, thankful for the tiny wheels, he can just use to roll it with him as he walks. Sure, he can’t run with it - not that he hasn’t tried - but at least he wasn’t bedridden anymore. He wasn’t particularly fond of that experience.

The first month after Siberia had been the _worst._ Tony couldn’t move - he was breathing into a tube, pissing into a tube, shitting into a tube, _hell,_ his body couldn’t even digest food, so it was daily nutrients through a tube. He was barely conscious in the first month - with his lungs and heart completely _destroyed,_ all his ribs shattered and causing internal bleeding wherever they could - there was no way Tony could have survived. 

Steve Rogers would have murdered Tony Stark and gotten away with it. 

Tony’s condition wasn’t public knowledge at all, not even something the Accords council knew, which made it all the more harder for Tony’s team of doctors to continue working off-record. No contact with their families, friends - absolutely _no_ distractions. And yet, the medical team was stumped. Tony was hanging on to his final thread of life - all they were able to do was continuously lessen the weight on the thread, prolonging his inevitable death. 

If it hadn’t been for Rhodey secretly reaching out to Helen Cho in South Korea two weeks into Tony’s return, if it hadn’t been for her Regeneration Cradle, and the modified ECMO machine - Tony doesn’t even want to think what could have happened. 

And then, a month and a half after Siberia, Loki showed up.

Asking for that _damn_ drink.

To say Tony feared for his life would be an understatement, but also something he’ll never admit to Loki as long as he’s alive. Which was ironic, considering that, even then, he wasn’t sure if he could live through it. And so, Tony sat, helpless and scared to his wits, as Loki told him about what really happened in New York. That it was Thanos, and that Tony was right to fear about the inevitable threat from space. Loki continued to visit regularly, sometimes dressed in a tunic while resembling an ageing pirate, which ended up with Tony laughing so hard – consequently paired with an aching heart and rapid, irregular breathing – that FRIDAY insisted Loki switch back to his original form in fear of her boss’ heart.

The god visited Tony almost every day, and apparently the change in Tony’s mood was so drastic that an incredibly worried Rhodey, Helen _and_ Pepper just barged into his workshop while he was mid-conversation with Loki. There were a lot of explanations that day – but hey, if Loki was there for Tony when they couldn’t be, they supposed he could stay. Tony didn’t think they could have forced him to leave anyway.

It was nice after that, watching Loki interact with DUM-E and U as they whirred with excitement at Loki’s magic. The god would just _shapeshift_ into Tony, and then just as fluidly turn into Pepper – getting each and every person perfectly spot-on, right down to their posture and mannerisms. He’d make flames dance on his palm, create objects out of thin air, even teleport from one end of the workshop to the other – and really, DUM-E, U and FRIDAY just ate it up. Tony did too, because if Loki can do all _that_ , then–

And Loki had caught the sad smile on Tony’s face, immediately understanding the reason behind it.

 _“Healing is… not one of my abilities.”_ Loki had said, so softly and looking so _utterly_ disappointed in himself. Tony could only shrug lamely, trying to ignore the pang in his chest that didn’t come as a result of the tube inserted deep inside him, but because of a hope that had just shattered.

It was pathetic enough that he was clinging on to it in the first place, just like was he was pathetic enough to think that Ste- _Rogers_ would go easy on him. He knew Rogers’ fighting technique, had memorized every ounce of the Captain’s body language; that’s what it meant when you’re in a team – you had to be able to _read_ each other, be able to tell when one of the team members may be compromised. It was how Tony knew Rogers had fought with intent to _kill._ He had witnessed pure _rage_ in the Captain’s eyes, all rational thought flying out of his brain until it only left unrestrained anger _._

And now, two levels above Tony, the same man is freely roaming the corridors, _ridiculously unaware_ of what he had done to Tony, if Rhodey’s call was anything to go by. When his friend had called him only _seconds_ after hanging up on Rogers, there were several seconds of incoherent cursing and mumbling before Tony finally had enough and asked Rhodey to speak English.

Apparently, Rogers had taken such _personal_ offense to Tony’s lack of a welcoming committee, that he figured the ideal way to elicit a reaction from Tony would be to go _behind his back_ to Rhodey. Naturally, Captain Headache was quick to be shot down by Colonel James Rhodes, who all but conveyed bitter accusations at Roger’s head up his own ass.

And Rhodey was _right._ It’s not that Tony had expected an apology from Rogers, because that’s clearly asking for too much when said person almost killed him, he had expected at least slight concern from the soldier. Maybe he was asking for too much on that front, too, because all the messages that FRIDAY relayed from Rogers and his team revolved around:

 _‘We’ll tell Tony…’_ and _‘Tony has to…’_ and _‘This is Tony’s doing…’_ and his personal favourite:

‘ _FRIDAY, tell Tony…’_

But nothing, not even a single thought of whether Tony was capable, whether he even _could,_ period. Nothing that even resembled a question of _how is he? –_ which he figures is his own fault for expecting basic decency – but more of strongly worded demands from either FRIDAY or Tony. Frankly, if FRIDAY had chosen to reply to them with not-so-subtle jabs, Tony can hardly blame her.

“The Witch attempted to inflict her powers on me yesterday.” Loki says, breaking the silence, and bringing Tony back to the present. Sometimes, Tony gets lost in a spiral of thoughts, and it’s not something he’s keen on admitting, but he’s pretty sure Loki’s more than aware about it. The god doesn’t even show offense when Tony absent-mindedly gets lost in his own mind in the middle of a conversation with Loki, which Tony’s extremely thankful for. With all that has happened since Siberia, Tony feels like the only part of him he has control over is his mind.

“Attempted?” Tony repeats, catching on the one word. He starts walking to his sofa – a sectional that doubles as a bed – and FRIDAY, getting the intention, promptly switches on the TV. Beside him, Loki matches Tony’s slow stride which makes Tony feel equal amounts of gratitude and helplessness. He still can’t wrap his head around the fact that he can’t _walk_ like he used to, instead he’s stuck with rolling a sidekick of a machine that has a one-inch diameter tube inserted into his chest and pumping his blood because his heart is literally _incapable_ of doing so. Beside him, Loki replies, effectively snapping him out of his thoughts for the second time in the past two minutes.

“To think her impetuous abilities could rival that of a _god_.” Loki does what Tony has nicknamed the ‘superior scoff’ – which is exactly what it sounds like. It comes up whenever Loki thinks a specific being or object is barely worth his time. “I did put up a rather impressive act, if only for appearances’ sake.”

“Right - _appearances’_ sake,” Tony laughs, which shoots a spike of pain in his chest that ends his laugh with a tiny wince. “Wouldn’t have expected you to care about anything else.”

Loki is quick to notice Tony’s facial expressions, however, no matter how microscopic they are. “The more you continue putting pressure on your heart, Anthony, the longer it will take to heal.”

“Well, maybe you should try to stop being God of Snarky, Childish Behaviour then, because it makes me _laugh._ Which, by extension, is a burden on my weak heart.” Tony pauses, and then sneaks a glance. “One could say it’s your fault, really.”

The look of pure _horror_ that Loki rounds on him with is too comical to be taken seriously. Tony grins as he takes a seat against the corner of the sectional, just so that the ECMO machine is right beside him. As much as serves as a constant, _heart-twisting –_ pun intended – reminder of how weak he’s become, he’d still prefer it closer to him than further.

“Don’t worry,” He says, watching as Loki occupies the space beside him. “I wouldn’t want you to be subjected to the Cho Wrath any more than I already am.”

“How considerate,” Loki responds, his tone dry, but they both know there’s truth to Tony’s words. Helen is absolutely amazing – she’s incredibly clever, knows what she needs, and sees right through Tony’s _and_ Loki’s bullshit, which says a _lot._ However, in the few times that they’ve taken it a bit too far, Helen Cho had easily outranked Pepper Potts by a several hundred points when it came to blowing off steam. Especially when said source of steam was a mortal/god duo.

Following that, Tony Stark and Loki Liesmith were timid little boys in her presence. Banter was well and good, but anything that so much as made Tony _wince_ was met with a suspicious frown that too often resulted in a lot of scolding. Usually, much to Tony’s distaste, Loki was the smirking third-party that hovered by the side-lines, watching as Helen rained down cats and dogs upon Tony.

FRIDAY chooses to play Maleficent, much to Tony’s delight, followed by Loki’s bewilderment on why Tony’s so _excited._ When the movie starts playing, and a young Maleficent shows up on screen, horns and all, Loki casts a narrow-eyed, suspicious look at Tony, which the inventor does an impressive job at ignoring. And thus, starts the commentary:

“She speaks to a _raven?_ All she needs now is a beard and a ridiculous robe. And Gungnir, of course.”

“ _Green seidr_. She has commendable taste.” Loki’s only mildly impressed, which in reality, or rather, in human translation, is _very_ impressive.

“Now _that_ is quite an entrance.” Is Loki’s response when Maleficent’s presence all but makes everyone piss their pants in fear.

 _“I like you begging. Do it again.”_ Comes Maleficent’s voice through the screen, in an accent and tone that’s all too _familiar_ to Tony. In the movie, the king gets down on his knees and Tony can’t stop staring at the way Loki’s eyes widen in wonder and delight, eyes only fixated on the screen as the scene unfolds. And then:

“Oh _dear,_ she cursed the baby. Pity.” Loki says, eyes glinting in an expression with absolutely no remorse.

Tony has never seen the god so invested in a movie before, expression awed every time Maleficent shows up on screen – which is pretty much every second. Soon enough, Tony’s just sneaking glances at the god every other minute. The movie’s good, but Loki’s synchronized reactions to every scene make Tony’s movie experience a hundred times better.

It’s only an hour of blissful obliviousness to the throbbing pain in his chest, but it still amounts to something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL. LISTEN. Loki... as Maleficent.  
>  _Loki_ as _MALEFICENT._  
>  Why hasn't anybody thought of this? and more importantly, _why is there no damn fic about this?!!_
> 
> Also, I may have a crush on Helen Cho.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a handful of angst. Like rubbing salt over the wound. 👀

**_“You do not have access to Boss’ workshop, Captain.”_ **FRIDAY finally says in response to Steve’s several failed attempts in calling the elevator

“I need to talk to Tony. He’s down there, isn’t he?” He ends his question almost accusingly, looking up at what he assumes is one of FRIDAY’S cameras, 

**_“I cannot disclose his whereabouts to you.”_ **

“Just tell him I have to speak to him. All you have to do is open the elevator.” Steve presses the elevator button again, which continues to remain unresponsive. 

“Pressing it any harder isn’t going to help,” comes Natasha’s voice behind him. Her arms are folded across her chest, the smile on her face almost teasing. 

“How many times does he expect me to reach out?” Steve sighs, turning around to completely face her, his attempts at breaking into Tony’s elevator forgotten for the time being. “It’s been three _months,_ Nat, and he’s still dragging this whole thing out. He refuses to even _acknowledge_ us.” 

Natasha doesn’t respond to his question, instead motions her chin towards the elevator behind him. “How do you know he’s down there?” 

“What do you...” Steve falters, and then shakes his head. “He’s obviously in there! Remember that guy who came the other day? He wouldn’t have gone to the workshop if Tony wasn’t there. Tony’s _there._ I know it.” 

“Just like you knew Tony was fine before you left him in Siberia?” Natasha asks, the smile wiping off of her face in an instant as her gaze hardens. It immediately catches Steve off-guard. He does a double take, registers the steely expression on her face, and knows that there’s more to her words than what she’s leading Steve to think. 

“I talked to the Colonel," Natasha continues, treading into a territory that's only reserved for Steve's guilt. "He didn’t say much, but it was definitely more than what you told me.”

“I told you-” Steve starts indignantly, but Natasha cuts him off. 

“You didn’t tell us he was on ECMO.” She takes a step forward. It’s a small move, probably doesn't mean anything, but it's Natasha and it makes Steve’s throat close up in fear. He didn’t think details would have been so important, especially not when there was equal possibility that Rhodey was just lying. “And you never told us what exactly went down in Siberia.” 

“I _told_ you,” Steve repeats, stressing on his words. There’s a heavy feeling in his chest that’s manifesting into some form of panic. Panic that if Natasha knows the truth - the _whole_ truth - then Clint will know, and Wanda will know, and soon enough so will the rest of them. Bucky had been tight-lipped about the whole situation, considering he’s still easing into the new lifestyle, but it worked to Steve’s advantage. Natasha’s still waiting for an answer, and so Steve starts to explain, _again._

“Tony told us to surrender. He attacked us when we refused - attacked _Bucky_ so he could incapacitate him and take him back to Ross.” Steve says. There's panic rising in his chest at the thought of what could have happened to Bucky if Stark had gotten his way, if Stark had _won._ He swallows, trying to contain his hysteria.

“And- and you _know_ what Ross would have done. _Tony didn’t even care._ I-I couldn’t let that happen to Bucky, not… not again. He forced me to attack him - he cut off _Bucky’s arm,_ Nat. We had to take him down - _I had to take him down._ He could have _killed_ Bucky. I - you didn’t see his face - there was so much _rage._ And I couldn’t stop, I had to _stop_ him - _stop him_ from getting Bucky.” There’s a silence, filled only by Steve’s shaky breathing. He finally locks his gaze with Natasha, and she must have seen something in his face, because her expression flickers. The blood drains from her face.

“What did you do?” Natasha asks, and there’s a slight tremor in her voice. Her posture no more conveys the body language of someone who has a trump card, instead her folded arms slowly come loose at her sides. She’s not looking at Steve with a hardened gaze any more. Now, there are hints of fear, and he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing. 

“I had to stop him.” Steve says, _repeats,_ because that’s what’s important. That Tony had to be _stopped._

 _“What did you do?!”_ Steve can’t resist himself from flinching when she yells out the words. It’s the first time she’s broken character, the first time she’s ever raised her voice - the first time she’s made her feelings touch the surface. Her eyes are glassy, clenched fists trembling at her sides and Steve can’t even reply. He’s rooted to his spot, all his words lost in his throat as he stares at Natasha who’s looking at him like _he’s_ everything wrong with the world. It’s a hundred times worse than the time Tony had looked at him, asking - _demanding -_ if he knew about his parents’ murders. 

Steve doesn’t answer - he doesn’t think he can - but his eyes focus on the approaching figure over her shoulder. 

“Nat?” Comes Clint’s voice as the archer half-walks half-jogs towards her. Steve sees her tense at the call of her name, but there’s no change in expression. He wonders if it’s a ploy to get Clint to ask what happened, maybe even antagonizing Steve in the process. 

“Did something happen?” The archer comes to a stop a few steps behind Natasha, and covers the remaining space with slow, deliberate steps. There’s a brief glance at Steve before he focuses on Natasha. “I heard you…” and he promptly trails off, registering the look on her face. His eyes widen, and there’s a clear sign of worry on Clint’s face. He grabs her arm, and this time, a louder, more forceful “Nat.” escapes him. 

Her eyes are still fixated on Steve, and it’s only a matter of time before Clint rounds on him, asking the same question that Natasha had asked, albeit in a different context. Natasha opens her mouth, lips trembling as the part, and Steve can hear the shaky breathing all the way to where he’s stood. 

“You _killed_ Stark.” There’s not a hint of doubt in her voice. It’s a claim; an accusation. Clint’s eyes snap to him and Steve wants to protest, say that it’s not true, but…

What can he say? He has no proof to rely on. No factual evidence, or physical proof. Natasha said that Tony’s video appearances could have been altered, could have been a hologram, or _something -_ could have been _anything_ but him. All he has is Rhodey’s word.

“What?” Clint asks, a nervous laugh escaping him as he turns to her. “Don’t you think we would have noticed if _Tony Stark_ was dead?” 

“Clint…” Steve starts, faltering as he considers the rest of his sentence. 

“How did you do it?” Her voice comes out bitter, almost mocking. “He would have had his armor on, so you must have done something with your shield.” Steve tries to resist the flinch, but he’s sure Natasha noticed it. 

“What-” The rest of Clint’s question is cut off by Natasha. 

“That’s what you did, didn’t you?” Natasha continues, almost taunting him. There’s a victorious smile on her face, and it doesn’t make Steve feel comfortable at all. She _knows_ she’s right. “That’s how you stopped him. A direct hit to the arc reactor, and the suit becomes a metal coffin.” 

“ _No._ No- that’s… That’s not what happened. It was a _mistake,_ Natasha. Tony’s not dead.” 

“Steve?” Clint asks, caution heavy in his voice, and it feels like Steve just stepped on a landmine. 

“You don’t _understand,”_ There’s a note of desperation as he turns to Clint. They _have_ to believe him. “Tony was _angry-_ he found about his parents and he wanted to kill-”

“His parents?” Clint cuts in, just as realization seeps into Natasha’s face. 

“Steve.” She says; voice deadly calm. There’s a moment of silence where both men turn to Natasha, who’s fixed Steve with a deadly glare. “You said Tony knows, that _you_ told him.” 

The guilt in his face was all Natasha needed to confirm her suspicion. 

“What about his parents?” Clint asks, and it’s the first time Natasha answers him. 

“The Winter Solder killed Howard and Maria Stark. Steve and I saw the images in Arnim Zola’s bunker,” Natasha says, and Zola’s voice rings in Steve’s ears.

 _...And when history did not cooperate, history was changed. Accidents will happen -_ spoken over flashes of a metal arm, a red star, and newspaper clippings of Howard and Maria Stark. Natasha and him had made the connection almost immediately. 

“Steve said he has to be the one to tell Tony, that it was in Bucky’s best interest,” Natasha continues, a cold glare still fixed on Steve. “Turns out he didn’t.”

“Tony was going to _kill_ Bucky.” Steve says, adamant. “Bucky was already shaken by the deaths of the Winter Soldiers - I _had_ to act in his defense. Bucky is innocent.” They both stare at him, gazes calculating, and Steve thinks; _this is it, he’s lost their trust,_ until Clint speaks. 

“Nat, we _know_ Tony has a tendency to self-destruct,” He says, turning to Natasha, and Steve feels a relieved sigh escape him. “You said so in your report. Flying straight into space, when he could have just let the nuke shoot itself into the wormhole, inviting an international terrorist to his Malibu home, creating a world-annihilating robot, and now lashing out in Siberia? Tell me you’re not surprised.” 

Natasha’s face flicks through a variety of expressions, from disbelief to conflicted to doubt - and that’s what Steve catches on to. The flicker of doubt. 

Before Natasha can say anything, there’s a familiar low rumble behind him, and he turns just in time to see the elevator doors open. 

There’s a brunette guy that comes into view. Fairly young, - maybe mid twenties, Steve presumes - and wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. He looks like any other person you’d see on a street, and wouldn’t be someone who would have caught Steve’s attention at all, save for the one fact that the guy’s getting out of Tony’s private elevator. 

The guy pauses, brown eyes disdainfully looking Steve up and down, before continuing to step out of the elevator, and past Steve. 

“Hey. Do I know you?” Steve asks, turning to face the guy’s back. There’s no response from the guy, so Clint moves to stand in the guy’s path. 

“He’s talking to you.” Clint points out, motioning to Steve. The guy looks at Clint, and drags his eyes to Natasha before settling back on Clint, as if seeing them for the first time.

The guy turns to Steve, an overly confused frown on his face. “Oh, you were talking to me? I assumed if you knew me... you would have called me by my name.” He takes a moment to look back at Clint before settling back to Steve again. “So, my silence _must_ have answered your question, did it not?” 

“There’s no need to be aggressive, young man,” Steve says, resorting to his Captain America voice. He isn’t the least bit surprised that Tony chooses to be in the company of such provocative people. “It was a harmless question.” 

“And mine caused you harm?” The guy responds, not even missing a beat, and Steve purses his lips in irritation. It was one thing to decide that _Captain America_ wasn’t worth his time the minute he laid eyes on Steve, but to continue the charade while Steve’s trying to make conversation? 

“What’s your name?” Clint asks from behind him, and the guy doesn’t even bother looking at Clint while he answers with a smug “Chad.” It's the first question that the guy doesn't answer without twisting it three times. 

“Were you with Tony?” Natasha asks, her stoic composure retained. Her hands are back to being crossed over her chest. 

Chad turns then. “I’m sorry, can this-” He motions to Clint and Natasha, and then at Steve, back to the pair again. “Can only one of you talk? I end up turning and turning and- it’s a little exhausting.” 

Steve lets out a sharp sigh, and takes the lead. “Is Tony downstairs?” He asks, somewhat rephrasing Natasha’s question. 

“He’s…” Chad pauses, brows pulled into a frown as he deliberately drags the silence. “... Unavailable.”

Steve feels Natasha’s glare settle on him. He straightens, squaring his shoulder as he takes a step towards Chad. “Why? What’s he doing?” 

“How would I know?” Chad scoffs, like Steve just said the most absurd thing. “I’m here with you.” 

“You said he’s unavailable.” Steve presses, resisting the urge to give the guy a good earful on etiquette. 

“Excellent observation,” Chad deadpans. “If you wish to pass on a message, I would suggest other means, considering I’m _leaving_ the premises.” 

Chad’s gaze lingers, almost like he’s challenging Steve to rebuke him. When there’s no reaction from the expected party, Steve thinks he sees a hint of disappointment on the guy’s face before he turns around. Clint sourly watches the guy walk past, and before the three of them can continue the conversation from where they had left off, Natasha turns on her heel and leaves the two of them alone. 

“Don’t sweat on it, Cap,” Clint assures, before he too walks away. 

When Steve enters the room and flicks on the light, the last person he expects to see is standing in the middle of the room - back turned to Steve. He nearly feels the wind get knocked out of his chest as he registers the situation. _He knew it, he was right._

“Tony?” Steve whispers. He can’t mask the excitement in his voice, but there’s an uncomfortable feeling deep inside his gut. 

“Steve,” Tony says, and it sounds so normal, so _usual_ that Steve might just get down on his knees in joy. The feeling doesn’t last long however, with slight irritation bubbling up inside him - that Tony had been fine _all along,_ and had outrightly refused to meet them. That Tony had _lied_ about being on life support, lied to _Rhodey,_ and encouraged the whole world to resent Captain America and his team because of their so-called Civil War, when Tony was equally to blame. That Tony had _allowed_ Steve to feel guilt over what happened in Siberia, guilt at keeping something from Tony that was for his _protection,_ and guilt at leaving Tony behind because Steve had no _choice._

It’s Tony’s fault that they’re here, despised and cut-off from the rest of the world like a disease. There are words of anger rising up his throat like bile, and Steve’s ready to throw every last one of them at Tony until-

Until Tony turns.

And Steve sees the large gash over Tony’s chest. Deep and bloody, and - _oh god_ is that Tony’s heart? It’s _beating._ The gash extends across his entire chest, skin peeled back like something had been pulled out - something the size of his _shield_ \- and there are shards of broken glass wedged deep into Tony’s internal organs.

Tony smiles - face pale, eyes sunken and hollow - his brown eyes devoid of its usual life. 

_His heart is still beating inside his chest._

“Hey, Cap.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only proofread this once, so if there are any mistakes, please let me know. :)  
> Otherwise, hope you liked it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up - there's mentions and imagery of blood in this chapter. I've tried to make it as _ungory_ as possible, but I just wanted to let you know since I hadn't mentioned it in the tags. 👀

_This is not real. This can’t be real._

Tony’s alive — he _knows_ Tony’s alive but not— not like _this_. 

He’s wearing what Steve _thinks_ is the Black Sabbath t-shirt, but he can’t say for sure – the deep gash is stretched right across where the identifying print would have been, the rest of the t-shirt drenched in dark blood. 

“You wanted to know what I’m doing,” Tony points out, the sickening smile _plastered_ on his face as he spreads his arms out wide. Steve can see Tony’s insides shift at the movement. “Well, here I am – in all my bloody glory.” 

_This is not real._

Guilt swells up inside him, consuming every fibre of him because – if this was how he had left Tony in Siberia – Tony shouldn’t be _alive._

And yet, the figure in front of him matches Tony in every way – from the clipped way he speaks to his puffed-out-chest stature, this is _Tony._ And yet, it can’t be. 

“What, cat got your tongue?” Tony grins, and he steps forward. And another step, followed by another. There’s a puddle of blood on the floor where Tony previously stood, a thin trail of drops following as Tony makes his way closer to Steve, until he stands right in front of him. Steve could count the lashes framing Tony’s eyes if he focused, but he couldn’t – not over the steady _thump thump thump_ of Tony’s heart. 

Steve had a few good inches over Tony, often towered over him in close vicinity, but somehow, suddenly, he feels very small.

“You’re thinking I’m a hallucination.” Tony says, _whispers,_ and Steve’s response is lost in his throat. Panicked thoughts and theories are fleeting through his mind, none of them settling long enough for Steve to pinpoint them and argue against them. 

In one swift movement, Tony’s grabbed Steve’s hand by the wrist, bringing it up in the space between them. Steve tries to slip out of the grasp, twisting and turning, but Tony’s hold is viciously strong – stronger than _Steve_. Tony’s fingers are no doubt planting bruises in Steve’s wrist, and Steve feels so _weak, so vulnerable –_ just like he did before the serum. 

_Thump thump thump_

“Tony– I–” Steve starts, helplessly fumbling for words, for something that can _explain_ this. In a way that shouldn’t be possible, Tony’s grip tightens on Steve’s wrist, and he can’t help the wince. 

“You did this to me, Steve.” The words come out in a sharp hiss, and Tony’s soft browns are flashing in anger and hurt and _blame._ Blame - like it was Steve's fault. 

Blame – when it was Tony who brought it upon himself. 

“Tony, _no,”_ Steve grits out, _finally._ He tries to wiggle his wrist out of Tony’s grip, but to no avail. “ _You_ did this to yourself. You _attacked_ Bucky, you were going to kill him.” Steve says, and though it feels like the hundredth time he’s using that justification, he’s _right._ And he’s not going to stop till Tony – or Natasha or _whoever – understands._

Tony let’s go of Steve’s wrist. There’s red blotches from the pressure of Tony’s fingers on his forearm.

“I _did_ do this to myself, didn’t I?” Tony muses, looking away. Then, he takes a deep breath, chest rising and falling while his insides move in accordance, and adds.“Trusting you, giving you a second chance – it does sound like something I’d do.” Dead eyes flick to Steve’s. “And something you’d abuse.” 

There’s a pile of blood pooling around Tony’s feet, almost reaching Steve’s bare feet. His stomach churns at the sight, and he finds himself taking a step back. Tony notices it – why wouldn’t he? – and clicks his tongue. 

“Oh, Steve,” Tony tuts. “You should have _told me_ about my blood inconveniencing you. God– now I’m just embarrassed,” Tony looks down as he steps away from the pool of crimson. His eyes follow the trail of blood left in his wake. “I dripped blood _all over your floor.”_

_Thump thump thump_

“Since you’ve done a rather impressive job of using me as a doormat,” Tony’s eyes flick back to him, and there’s something dark swirling in the wide innocent eyes. “Do you want me to lie down?”

“Why are you doing this?” Steve asks, but it comes out almost begging – _pleading. Stop this._ The blood on the floor catches his attention, somehow increasing in mass and spreading and spreading until Steve’s back hits the door. Tony’s blood licks the tip of his toes.

Steve can just _leave._ Open the door and just walk out – leave Tony behind. A man bleeding from his insides like that has no hope of surviving, and Tony wouldn’t be able to catch up. Steve could simply walk away.

_Again – just like he did in Siberia._

“What– mess up your floor? I said I’m sorry. Or, wait – does it only have meaning when you say it?” Tony asks, in an expression so innocent that does nothing but openly laugh at Steve. “Should I sprinkle in a bit of ‘hopefully one day you can understand’ in there?” Tony jokes, unashamedly bringing up Steve’s letter. At least it’s a confirmation that Tony read it. It doesn’t make him feel any better, but at least Tony _read_ it, probably even _understood_ why Steve did what he did before it was too late. 

Tony’s still standing, only a few steps away from Steve. He’s not as close anymore, but close enough that Steve somehow feels claustrophobic and just– so _small._ There’s a small part of him that feels guilty at leaving Tony behind like that, but the rational part of him easily overwhelms the thought – that it was Steve’s only choice. 

It’s hard enough to grasp his mind around the fact that Tony’s _here. Alive,_ but judging by the way Tony’s bleeding, or the way that his insides just look _wrong,_ Steve doesn’t think it’ll last for long. He may have limited knowledge on the human body and blood, but there’s no way anybody can survive such extreme blood loss. And _why wouldn’t_ Tony use his last moments to rub his injury in Steve’s face, rub whatever he can in Steve’s face before he can’t anymore.

_Thump thump thump_

“You would rather bleed to death – proving you are exactly what I thought you were – instead of swallowing your ego and getting _help?_ ” Steve asks, expression incredulous while Tony just shrugs. 

“You wear a mask for so long, and it’s only a matter of time before you forget who you were beneath it.” Tony says, and the words send a chill down Steve’s spine. He’s not sure if Tony’s talking about himself or Steve, and not one option sounds better than the other. Tony continues speaking. 

“It’s too late for me, Cap. You made sure of that,” and it sounds so _mundane,_ like a basic fact of nature, that it makes Steve’s stomach twist. And then, Tony’s hand lifts, _reaching inside the gash_ –– 

Steve can’t even look away as Tony’s fingers dig into his organs, until he pulls out a bloody-fingered hand, holding a curved piece of glass. 

“Tony– what the _hell.”_ Steve’s words come out in a shaky whisper, almost inaudible to his own ears, but Tony’s eyes snap up in mock astonishment. 

“ _Language,_ Cap!”Tony shakes his head, and focuses on the shard of glass held in his hand. “You’d think murdering your teammate would remind you to keep yourself in check.” He mutters under his breath before bringing his voice back up to normal. 

“Anyway, this little fragment you see here–” Tony thrusts it forward so Steve can get a closer look, and his lips twitch when Steve makes no effort to move from where his back is pressed against the floor. “–is one of a hundred remaining pieces of the thing that kept me alive. Well– this was more for my suits, but the original design was to keep shrapnel away from my heart. Don’t think I ever told you about that,” Tony says, and continues to tell the story of the shrapnel inching closer to his heart, only delaying his inevitable death –– as if he wasn’t standing in the middle of Steve’s room, his insides spilling out of him while streams of blood flowed down his body, drenching his t-shirt and pants. 

“– and all that effort put into minimizing the arc reactor, creating a new element, just for an entitled son of a bitch to shove a vibranium shield deep inside me.” Tony finishes, and then as an afterthought, adds; “As much as I loved the sexual innuendo, I always thought it would be more literal when it came to me.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“Two reasons. One, – the _obvious_ one – I like seeing you uncomfortable. And two, you kept saying you wanted to talk, and since you weren’t doing any, thought I’d initiate the process.” 

Steve doesn’t reply– he doesn’t think he should even try anymore. Every response from Tony feels like adding gasoline to the fire that started in Siberia – _no._ Not _Siberia,_ but even further back. It started from their first conversation on the helicarrier about Tony deliberately provoking Bruce – risking the Hulk being set loose on a flying ship, just for Tony’s _thrill._ It rubbed Steve the wrong way, lit the match, and from then on, it was a constant addition of fuel in every interaction they had. 

He thought Siberia would have been the end of it, but he was wrong. 

Tony had always been insistent on triggering Steve, one way or the other, and proving him wrong. 

Clint said Tony could have just let the nuclear missile shoot itself into space, there was _no reason_ for Tony to launch himself into space too, unless it was to prove Steve wrong. This was Tony going all the way to space and back to prove Steve wrong, prove that _he was exactly the guy to make the sacrifice play._

And Steve had to watch as Tony gobbled up all the praise, that he was so self-sacrificial, that _he_ saved New York, while the only thing the Avengers did – led by Captain America – was close the portal. And _that too,_ knowing that Iron Man was still on the other side of the wormhole. 

Certain news reporters made it sound like an act of _betrayal,_ and all Steve could do was plaster a fake smile, and give futile explanations along the lines of “It wasn’t like that” while Tony continued to bask in the attention and admiration of the people – flashing pearly-white smiles and holding up his signature peace sign – like he was his own team. 

Something else tugs on Steve’s attention, and he realizes he still hasn’t responded to Tony. He looks up, not really planning on a response as such, when only an empty room greets him back. Tony’s nowhere in sight, the only sign of him being there was the pools of blood on the floor, and there’s no way Tony could have just _left._ Not when Steve was blocking the only exit out of his bedroom. 

He looks around the room again, rather helplessly, because how had he not noticed any movement from Tony? There’s not even the trail of blood that could even indicate Tony’s movements. 

Tony’s gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop, this got me excited, so I'll probably update again within the next few hours. 😆  
> And then I'll reply to all your comments, hehe.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update _and_ three POV's - wooh am I on a roll!  
> I hope you like this! ❤️️

Scott hangs up the call – too focused on tucking his phone back into his pocket, that he doesn’t notice the figure in front of him until he very nearly runs into them. 

The Captain seems to be in a daze, one hand loosely tugging the door behind him shut. It doesn’t close all the way, and there’s a sliver of a gap that Scott uses to peek inside the room for a brief second before turning to the soldier. 

“Hey, Cap. You good?” Scott asks, and it doesn’t seem like the soldier heard him. He’s just about to repeat the question when the Captain’s lips part.

“Yeah,” comes the reply, and it sounds distant, like the Captain wasn’t really mentally present in the conversation –– which seems to be the norm the past few days. The Captain and his team were clearly worried about Tony’s lack of presence, and more often than not they were too busy to sit down for casual conversations. The only one who rarely seemed to be in a rush (rush for _what?)_ was Sam – and well, Bucky too, but the guy never talked much – and Sam was always open to conversations with Scott. Sam would talk about his ex-partner Riley and his missions, while Scott would talk about Cassie and how he ended up in Vistacorp, then prison, then as Ant-Man. They didn’t really have much in common except for their easy-going attitude which – again – was something the rest of the team never exhibited, but talking to Sam was really the only thing to look forward to these days. 

On the other hand, the Captain’s closed-off response didn’t give Scott much to work on with continuing the conversation, so he switches topics. The Captain hasn’t walked away yet, which is also a good thing. 

“You know, I was just talking to Cassie – you know her? – She’s my daughter. Maybe you could meet her someday,” Scott offers, and it still doesn’t earn a reaction from the Captain. “Anyway, I was talking to her and I realized how much I miss her, y’know? I’ve been absent from her life for so long– hold on. Is that _blood?”_ Scott’s eyes are on the Captain’s bare feet, where there’s blood peeking out from the soles of his feet. His eyes follow the crimson footprint that the Captain had left behind, leading out from his bedroom. Apparently, that one question grabs the soldier’s attention, whose eyes snap down to his feet. 

“Yeah, it’s– nothing. Forget about it,” the Captain dismisses, which only piques Scott’s curiosity. It only takes one swift movement from him to reach and push the Captain’s door open. 

The first thing he sees is the _blood._

It’s in puddles, drops and in footprints all over the floor, and if this was just _one_ person’s blood – there’s no way they’re still alive. Not with all that blood loss. 

“ _What the hell?”_ His words come out a breathy whisper, and he’s lucky the Captain doesn’t take him down with the way he _lunges_ and slams the door shut – inches from Scott’s face. 

He takes a moment to scan the Captain – there’s no sign of a wound – or _anything,_ really – that could cause that much bleeding. There’s a ring of bruises around the Captain’s right wrist, and Scott thinks that _impossible –_ there’s no way someone is strong enough to inflict bruises on the cap, save for Bucky maybe – but they’re friends. 

But weren’t Stark and Cap friends too?

“Who’s blood is that?” Scott asks, almost fearing the answer. Now that he thinks of it… he hadn’t seen Bucky around in a while. 

“Nobody’s. I told you – just forget it, Scott.” Steve says, his hands still tightly gripping the doorknob like letting go would make it open by itself. 

“If someone’s hurt–” 

“Nobody’s _hurt!”_ Steve snaps through gritted teeth, cutting Scott off. There’s a beat, and then: “And even if they are, it’s too late.” The words don’t register at first, but when it does, Scott feels his blood run cold. 

“O-kay,” Scott says, maintaining his composure as best as he can. “What does _that_ mean?” 

There’s no response from Steve. “Cap, you’re freaking me out over here.”

Scott isn’t even surprised that Steve doesn’t reply to that either, instead, the soldier digs out a key from his front pocket and locks his bedroom door. The _stay out of it_ couldn’t have been any more obvious. All Scott can do is helplessly watch as Steve walks away. 

═════════════

Steve hears the television before he’s even rounded the corner that opens to the living room. Once he turns the corner, his eyes land on Clint lounging across the sofa. And if Clint notices Steve in his peripheral vision, there’s no attempt made to look away from the film he’s watching. 

“Where’s Nat?” Steve asks, and Clint continues to remain transfixed on the ongoing conversation on-screen. There’s a half-eaten donut in his hand, the rest of which the archer is obnoxiously chewing with an open mouth. 

“Dunno,” he finally says through a mouthful of donut, voice muffled. 

“Where’d you get the donuts from?” Steve asks, and with a punctuated effort, Clint reaches for the remote and presses pause on his film. 

“Leftovers from Sam and Scott’s breakfast date in the kitchen.” He pushes the box of donuts towards Steve. “Want one? One – not _some.”_ Clint points out, eyes following Steve as he reaches towards the box and pulls out a cinnamon donut. 

“Good choice,” Clint comments, and Steve isn’t sure if that was a good choice for Clint or for Steve. The archer doesn’t continue playing the movie, so Steve figures there’s something more to their conversation. It takes three seconds to clear his suspicion. 

“Sam’s been spending a lot of time with Scott – think he’s quitting as your right-hand man?” Clint asks, following which he shoves the entire half of a donut in his mouth. 

“He’s probably trying to make Scott feel at home. You know how he is.” Steve explains, and Clint just nods, mouth clearly not in a condition to be spewing words. 

“Think he’d get me donuts if I told him I don’t feel at home either?” Clint asks a few seconds later. He reaches towards the box and pulls out another donut. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I’m just saying, and no offense, but after Scott, your buddy is next on the naive list.” 

Steve frowns at Clint, about to rebuke the archer when Sam’s voice – calling out for Steve – echoes through the corridors and into the living room. 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Clint mutters under his breath as he takes a bit of his donut. 

“I’m here,” Steve yells out, just as Sam turns the corner into the living room. 

“Hey, did you talk to Scott?” 

_Oh no._

If Scott said something to Sam about what he saw– 

“Yo, you okay? Looking a little pale there, Cap.” Clint’s voice snaps him out, and Steve exhales. He turns to Sam, who’s moved to lean against one of the walls. 

“Why? What did he say?” 

“Said he tried talking to you about moving out of the Compound, but apparently you were busy. So I called him a taxi – he’s leaving in an hour.” Sam says, and Steve resists the sigh of relief that almost escapes him. Sam continues, “He said he wanted to spend more time with Cassie.”

Scott did mention someone called Cassie, didn’t he – his girlfriend, maybe? 

“Yeah, he mentioned Cassie,” is all Steve days. Sam nods. “He was worried the Accords wouldn’t let him, but since he’s out of Pym particles, and Hank and Hope have pretty much disowned him – his suit is useless now.” 

Sam probably notices the confused look in Steve’s and Clint’s eyes, so he elaborates. “The Pym particles allowed him to become smaller and bigger. If he doesn’t have it anymore, and if the only people who can supply it refuse to, Scott can’t be Ant-Man anymore. That’s what his argument is anyway, if Ross makes a personal visit.” 

“Wait. He’s what – _retiring?”_ Steve asks once Sam’s words settle in. “For Cassie?” 

“She’s _his daughter,”_ Sam says, eyes narrowing. “He knows his priorities.” 

Beside him, Steve feels Clint take a sharp breath. “What the hell are you implying?” 

“You think I’m implying something?” Sam laughs derisively, shaking his head. “I’m just telling you what Scott told me, since none of y’all even bother with the guy. You forced him to leave his family behind, and then continued to exclude him from this so-called family.” 

“What– he acts like some kind of clown and you expect us to take him seriously? Include him in conversations that revolve around our pardons and the Accords? Engage with his jokes while our futures were hanging by a thread? He didn’t even care why he was fighting as long as he was fighting Stark.” Steve puts a hand up before Clint can go on any further. 

“It’s not like that,” Steve says, turning to Sam. “We were, and still are, all busy with what’s going on – _I’m busy_ trying to reach out to Stark. Isn’t that why we’re here? To mend what Stark’s broken?” 

Sam stares at Steve like he can’t quite believe the words coming out of Steve’s mouth. A beat passes, where neither of them says anything, and there’s a hint of disappointment in Sam’s face before he turns on his heel and walks back the way he came from. 

═════════════

Wanda doesn’t like getting out of her room much, and even when she does, it’s spent silently in the kitchen. She feels partly responsible for Vision not coming to meet them, after all – she did side with Clint – but she had expected Vision to understand. Understand why _she_ had to – she had just found out Stark was keeping her prisoner. Out of everything the murderer had already done to her family, her _brother_ , Stark had continued to threaten her very freedom. To him, she was just some pathetic girl who was lucky enough to survive his bomb. 

_Lucky._

It’s definitely the word she would have used, because, in the end, it was _she_ who toyed with Stark’s mind. It was she who made him envision his deepest, darkest fears. And it was she who caused him to spiral down further – _she_ who turned his most trusted friends against him.

It’s only a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

The cameras in the Compound always seemed to be following her movements, and while the intention is to make her feel _scared_ , like every single of her movements are being analyzed and calculated, it only enhances her pride. Stark was a _coward,_ hiding away in his workshop, watching her behind the safety of his screens, knowing that the only thing standing between his sanity and tearing him apart would be a single twirl of her fingers. Just one spark of her magic and Stark would self-destruct – trapped in his own mind, reliving his fears over and over again. 

“Wanda,” Steve’s familiar voice brings her to reality, as he joins her from behind her. Steve always spoke softly to her, never wanting to strain or worry her, and it was something she appreciated. He knows how wary she gets, and sometimes a sudden spike of fear or anxiety makes it difficult to control her powers. Steve knows, and Steve understands. “How are you holding up?” 

“I’m fine,” she says, looking up at the soldier with a smile. Clint and Steve were one of the very few people who defended her, who knew that she struggled sometimes – with her powers, her mental health, her rage – and they _understood._

“Kitchen?” Steve asks, tracking the direction they’re walking, and Wanda nods. 

“Mind if I join?” She nods again, shooting a small smile at Steve. 

The rest of their walk is spent in silence. 

There is a girl in the kitchen. 

Wanda and Steve stop mid-step at the same time, eyes landing on the girl who’s biting into a fry as she scrolls through her phone.

She’s seated on a stool by the island, turned to the side so that one elbow rests against the marble counter. Her outfit is as gaudy as it can get – a pink spaghetti paired with a lighter pink skirt. Her hair is dark at its roots, bleeding into a bright, almost blinding pink as it reaches her shoulders. 

There’s _way too much pink_ , and Wanda’s brain physically hurts at the sight of the girl open-mouthedly munching her fries like a cow. 

“Ma’am,” Steve is the first to speak, and Wanda’s surprised at the restraint in his voice. If Steve wasn’t here, Wanda wouldn’t have been able to keep her powers in check. “Are you here to visit someone?” 

The girl looks up, and now that Wanda sees her face, she looks to be in her early twenties. There’s a sour look on the girls face as she scans them down. “I _was_ ,” she finally says, and she has the kind of voice that sounds like nails against a chalkboard. 

“Who?” 

“A friend,” she shrugs, like an insightful answer wasn’t worth her time, as she takes another fry from the plate. 

“Was it Scott?” Steve asks, and for a brief second Wanda wonders why that’s the first name to pop up in Steve’s mind. The girl pulls a face at Steve’s question, like it was the most ridiculous thing she’s ever been asked. 

“Ew, _no.”_ She scrunches her face as she motions to herself with a single fry. “Do I _look_ like _I’d_ enjoy the company of your people?” 

“You’re here to meet Stark,” Wanda finally says, and the girl's eyes widen in exaggerated delight. 

“ _Yes!”_ She squeals, and Wanda’s teeth clench at the sound. “Well – he prefers I call him Tonybear.” The girl leans forward as her voice drops to a whisper, “But it’s Stark when we _roleplay_.” 

She leans back, humming, and seemingly satisfied with the expressions on Wanda’s and Steve’s face. Her fingers snatch a few more fries from her plate as she returns to her phone, like she hadn’t just revealed part of her sex life with Stark. 

“You’re a _prostitute?”_ Wanda can’t help the disgust in her voice. _Of course_ Stark would invite _prostitutes_ to the Avenger’s Compound just to rub it in their faces. How else would he have conveyed the fact that he’d much rather waste his time succumbing to his filthy desires rather than apologizing for his wrongs?

Bright pink lipstick pulls into a smirk. “If we’re sticking to _labels,_ then you wouldn’t mind being called criminals, yeah?” 

“How _dare–”_

“Wanda,” Steve places a hand on her shoulder, and only then does she realize that her magic had seeped into her hands. The girl had noticed it too but doesn’t seem the least bit fazed at the swirls of red. It could only mean that she’s severely underestimated Wanda. 

Steve turns to the girl, who’s pulled her expression into one of wide-eyed innocence. “Ma’am, we’re not criminals. I think you’ll know us as the Avengers.” 

The girls' eyes flick to Wanda, then Steve, and back to Wanda before finally settling on Steve again. “ _Huh._ That’s _weird._ I could have _sworn_ the Avengers don’t have you as official members anymore.” 

Then she facepalms. “Ah, silly me. The cocaine’s messing up my memory again – Tonybear’s got the good stuff, ya know?” She laughs – which comes out as a cackle, and it makes Wanda’s fingers twitch. But Steve still has his hand on her shoulder – it’s somewhat calming. 

The girl peers at them again; squints. “Yup, definitely Avengers.” 

“What’s your name?” 

“Karamel – with a _K_ ,” she says and pops another fry into her mouth. “But Tonybear likes to call me Brandi, cause – _you know._ ” She says, shooting a wink at Steve. 

“Your real name,” Steve presses, but Wanda can sense him losing his patience. She’s surprised he’s maintained it for so long – but men always tend to be tolerable around females. 

“Gosh, nobody’s ever asked me that,” she pouts, sticking out her bottom lip. It makes Wanda cringe – if she could just _make her shut up._ “I mean, you wear this mask for so long, you kinda forget who you were beneath it.” 

On her shoulder, Steve’s hand goes slack. “What did you just say?” He says, and there’s something in his voice that has a hint of fear. Wanda turns to Steve, who looks like all the colour just drained from his face. 

_That was it._

Wanda lets the magic free from her mind, channelling it through her hands as thin tendrils reach out to the girl. Red streams of magic swirl around Karamel – a significant amount of it in the air around her head. She stands up in sudden shock, looking down and around at the red that’s enveloping her. Steve still hasn’t said a word, and Wanda’s content that there’s no reprimand from him.

There’s a nasty glare shot in Wanda’s direction. “Lady, what the _hell_ are you doing?” 

It happens in the blink of an eye – Wanda’s magic just dissipates in the air around her. 

_No nonono – not again._ She looks down at her hand, red tendrils pulsating with power, and launches it in the direction of the girl. It dissipates halfway through.

A small cry escapes Wanda. “What– what is _happening_?” 

“Wanda, hey,” Steve comes to life beside her. _About time._ “It’s alright, we’ll figure this out, okay?” The hand on her shoulder turns soothing again. It helps, but only slightly. Wanda’s breathing is turned ragged, panic flaring up inside her chest. _What if she’s losing her powers?_ She’s _nothing_ without her powers, and– she needs to make Stark _pay._ She can’t do that if she doesn’t have– if she can’t use her powers. 

_Weak._ She’s going to be _weak_ and _helpless_ and _vulnerable._

“Crazy _bitch,”_ Karamel curses as she walks past her, a shoulder shoving Wanda that she nearly ends up stumbling out of the way. Steve catches her before she can lose her balance. “No wonder you killed all those people. You’re a fuckin’ wacko.” 

The red rage that shoots out of Wanda’s hands doesn’t even bristle Karamel as she walks away, heels clicking and echoing through the corridor. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm suddenly so excited and invested in this fic instead of my other multi-chaptered fic, omg. But hey, as long as I'm somewhat consistent. 👀  
> Also, thank you for the lovely comments so far!!

“You didn’t have to do that,” Tony says, the minute Loki steps out of the elevator. He — or rather, _she_ _—_ is still in the nauseating disguise of the pink-haired girl, and Tony didn’t think it could get worse seeing it in real life as compared to the live feed from FRIDAY, but, _oh,_ was he wrong. 

“You _gotta_ be more specific, doll,” Her high pitched voice draws out the words, shoulders shrugging as she makes her way to where Tony’s seated on his couch. Tony shoots her a look, and she huffs as a shimmering wave of green spreads from the center of her chest to the rest of her body, and soon, it’s Loki in his male form – dark hair, green eyes, the whole package – who’s staring expectantly at Tony. 

Tony stares right back, because _he_ knows Loki knows what Tony’s talking about. After a long moment of stubborn silence, Loki’s nostrils flare with a sharp exhale. 

“The Captain deserved it.” Loki looks away, deciding to shift his attention towards the muted television that’s playing a series. 

_“Deserved it?”_ Tony repeats, his voice going an octave higher in incredulity. “You nearly gave him a coronary!” 

“I wouldn’t have let him die,” Loki says easily, eyes following the muted figures on screen. “Not that easily, anyway.” 

Tony’s nearly about to reply with a _that’s not the issue here!_ when he decides against it. Partially, because arguing with Loki wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but also because he… _maybe_ understands why Loki did it? Because maybe now, Rogers would stop trying to reach out to Tony and guilt trip him in what were explicitly one-sided conversations. And, obviously, Loki would have noticed Tony’s discomfort with Roger's crazy antics. 

Loki’s been fiercely protective over Tony long before the ex-Avengers had arrived at the Compound, and it impossibly doubled even if his former teammates were two floors above them. Which is how Loki found a way to have some fun with his shapeshifting abilities, coming back to tell Tony the ridiculous expressions on the team’s faces. And even if Tony’s seen the live footage from FRIDAY, there was something about listening to Loki. 

But, as much as Loki would joke around with Tony, share stories or Asgard and Thor that left Tony in small fits of laughter, Loki would always have a careful eye on him. Often masked with a smile or a twinkle, but the worry was there – just at the surface. What if this is the moment where Tony collapses? What if this is the moment that Tony accidentally laughs too hard and goes into a cardiac arrest? 

The tube in his chest never let him laugh properly, and once he had even wondered if he could ever go back to laughing the same way again, but with Loki around there was a partial fear that _what if_ he accidentally let himself loose? 

It felt so easy around Loki, and if Tony wasn’t currently incapacitated in his movements and speech, he was sure the pair would have gotten along so much better. Loki was equally interested and curious about Tony’s inventions, often asking questions about their operations – and how Tony _wished_ he could just get to work on building something from Loki if it meant he could give back one of the many smiles of delight Loki had let him feel. 

Tony suddenly realizes he’s zoned out on Loki’s face, and even though the god looks like he’s found some inane interest in watching House M.D. on mute, there’s at least 75% of his attention focused on Tony. 

“Thanks,” Tony finally says. Loki hums in approval... and that’s it. Tony tries again.

“How did Wanda react to you stopping her magic?” Loki finally turns to him, eyes twinkling above a wide grin as he starts talking about the pure expression of horror on her face. 

“... and of course, I had the last word,” Loki ends matter-of-factly. “I called her a _wacko –_ unfortunately, it didn’t garner the reaction I expected. She was too distressed about her magic.” 

“Of course.” 

Loki shifts, curling his legs and leaning his side against the backrest of the sofa so that he’s completely facing Tony. Tony’s just about to mirror the action when he realizes his ECMO tube doesn’t extend enough, and just when he’s about to turn the other way and pull it closer – it moves by itself, coming to a stop right in front of Tony. 

“Thanks,” Tony says, just as Loki’s eyes flick from the machine to Tony’s. The god shrugs – it’s almost microscopic. 

There’s a few seconds of silence as Tony shifts into a more comfortable position to face Loki, and then the god continues their previous conversation. “If you ask me, the Witch is too reliant on her magic.” 

“Now, _why_ does that sound familiar?” Tony narrows his eyes in mock thought, going the extra mile to even tap his chin thoughtfully. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Loki scowl, who leans forward and flicks Tony right at the tip of his nose. 

_“Hey!”_ Tony exclaims, reaching a hand to cover his nose while shooting the same scowl Loki had schooled a second ago. 

“Not _all_ that reliant.” There’s a triumphant smirk lining Loki’s face. 

Tony’s mouth drops open in a gape, the hand covering his nose falling limp at his side. “What– you flicked my nose to prove me _wrong?”_

“Yes.”

“ _How old are you?”_ It’s obviously rhetoric, and he doesn’t expect Loki to answer – _obviously._ But Loki has a good track record of exceeding expectations – not necessarily in the good way either. 

“1051,” comes the answer. 

“Wha– _really?”_ Tony asks, scanning Loki down before looking back up. “You don’t act like it.” And then, in moment of afterthought, quickly brings his hand back up again to protect his nose. He’s not risking a second flick.

Loki snorts, amused. “I assume you have another 1051-year-old god to compare my behavior to?” 

“Shut up,” Tony says, his mind settling on the most mature comeback he could muster. “Harass me again and I’m telling Helen.” 

Loki’s expression changes like the flick of a switch, eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t.” 

“Yeah, you wanna bet? Flick my nose again.” Tony says. It’s probably not a good idea to provoke the god, but he can’t help the sudden surge of adrenaline in him. And what better way to get his adrenaline going than prodding Loki in the most childish way possible. 

“C’mon.” Tony goads, going all the way to poke Loki’s arm. “I dare ya.” 

Loki doesn’t move a muscle, save for the deepening glare in his eyes. 

**_“Boss, you told me to tell you when the Captain returns to his room.”_ **

Tony shoots a quick grin in Loki’s direction right before the television screen switches to the footage in Steve’s room. 

The soldier is standing right by his bedroom door, face devoid of all color as he stares at the clean marble floors in his room. He takes a moment to glance back at the hallway, looking for someone before his eyes settle on the floor again, face on the verge of panic. 

It doesn’t strike Tony why until a moment later. “Fri, did he get someone to clean the floor?” 

**_“He didn’t, Boss. No one’s entered his room after he left.”_ **

Somehow, Tony knew that would be the answer. He doesn’t even have to look at Loki to know that the god is grinning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I find it so funny that everyone from team cap is freaking out one way or the other, and Tony&Loki are just chillin, not-giving-a-fuck two floors below. Like. Hilarious.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's safe to say this chapter is mostly a result of my hands having a mind of its own 👀

Bucky always found himself overly sensitive towards his surroundings; the sudden shift in the air, the weight of a presence nearby, the soft, regulated breathing were all indicators of someone sneaking up on him and it made the hairs on his neck stand up on edge. This capacity – _ability?_ – wasn’t something he could just switch off. 

The Winter Soldier made sure of that. 

Traces of the Winter Soldier lined his subconscious, integrated into his every thought, movement and action – he never joins conversations, ( _a killer doesn’t engage)_ never lets anyone stand too close to him, _(there's danger in proximity, you'll never see them coming)_ and he always keeps a knife tucked into his boot and a gun under his pillow. And those are just the basics. 

So, Bucky’s always watching his back – despite the ‘Compound being the safest place we can be in.’

Steve’s words, not his. 

There’s a movement in the air right behind him, seemingly out of nowhere _,_ and Bucky doesn’t even have to turn to know that whoever they are, they’re _impossibly_ close. _Impossible_ , because Bucky would have sensed them before they got any closer to him. 

Bucky stops walking. He can feel the person right behind him. Bucky’s just about to reach into his boot and swing his knife at the attacker when– 

“Yo, aren’t you the Winter Soldier?” A male voice rings out from behind him. Unfamiliar. Their choice of words and tone implies that they’re a civilian. Bucky turns around, inches away from a young man's face. _Really_ young – probably late teens.

If Steve was around, instead of letting Bucky answer the question, he'd immediately go on the defense - saying that Bucky's not the Winter Soldier, that it's wrong to fling accusations like that, that it's rude to be so blunt when you don't know what you're talking about and whatever else Steve can come up with. Someway or the other, Steve is insistent on making everyone believe that Bucky wasn't the Winter Soldier – even though he knows he _is. Was._

No matter how much anyone (read: _Steve_ ) tries to argue, Bucky _is_ the Winter Soldier. The blood of innocent people is still on Bucky's hands. 

To not accept the fact – not allowing Bucky to accept the fact – is to disregard their deaths, _shifting_ the blame away from Bucky because 'it wasn't Bucky.'

Once you shift the blame away from the murderer, it's only a matter of time before people blame themselves for the deaths of their loved ones. 

The guy is still staring at Bucky, waiting for an answer. There's a challenge in the guys' eyes, just a hint of it, but it's clear enough to Bucky. An absurd thought passes his mind, and Bucky suddenly wonders if he’s being tested by the guy.

"Yes, I am," Bucky says, not missing the way the guy seems almost surprised at the answer. Again, it's so small it's like it wasn't even there, but Bucky can't help notice these things. He tries testing the waters even further, and ends up being taken aback at the words coming out of his own mouth. "Why, did you want an autograph?" 

This time, the guy doesn't bother hiding the surprise on his face. His lips pull into a smile, green eyes twinkling in amusement as the guy brings his hands up, holding a pen and a spiral notebook. Had the guy been holding them the entire time? 

"Yeah, actually," he responds, as Bucky gingerly takes the pen and the book out of his hands. "Name's Kyle." 

He stares at the open book, pen hovering inches above a blank page. Bucky's never even given a signature before – does he sign it James, or Bucky, or the Winter Soldier? He wiggles his pen in the air over the page, trying to figure out which name would flow freely from his hands. Sure, his _name_ is James, but everyone just followed Steve's footsteps and started calling him Bucky, but then again, he's been the Winter Soldier almost triple the years of him being called Bucky. Winter Soldier was also the name Kyle referred to him as.

"I think the pen is supposed to touch the paper," Kyle suddenly points out, and Bucky's eyes flick up to him. It's a joke – Bucky soon realizes – the guy has hints of a smile on his face. 

Bucky looks down at the empty page again. This is undoubtedly the most ridiculous dilemma he's ever had, all because of a kid who's pretending to be a fan of the Winter Soldier. Who the hell is this guy, anyway? 

Suddenly, a thought strikes him, and he wonders why it took him this long to spot the pattern. 

"Are you here to meet Tony Stark?" 

"Yeah." Kyle doesn't even waver at the question, even though Bucky was sure it sounded more accusatory. The boy waits for a beat before adding: "Aren't you the one who murdered his parents?" 

Something stings inside Bucky, followed by the sharp reminder of a memory from 15 years ago that suddenly flashes inside his brain. It quickly dissipates, because Bucky realizes the second half of the pattern. 

All of Tony's visitors have, in some way or the other, tried to provoke a reaction from the rest of the team, from subtle jabs to more explicit versions of the same. 

"Yeah.” Bucky mirrors the same tone Kyle had used a moment ago, and continues. “If you're here to meet Tony Stark-" Something shifts in Kyle's face when he realizes Bucky's indifference to the attempted ruse. Bucky can't help but feel a tiny bit of pride. "-why are you here instead of the west wing, where his elevator is?" 

"Uh, I got lost." 

"Well, I hope you find your way back, Kyle." Bucky signs the empty page and hands it to the guy, who looks pleasantly surprised at the name scribbled across. He doesn’t dwell on that expression though, snapping his gaze up to Bucky with a newfound challenge. 

"Ah, you’d know about finding the way back,” Kyle smiles, and it’s sickly sweet. Something catches his eye over Bucky’s shoulder for a brief second before it flashes back to Bucky. “I mean, dude - and no offense here - butyou’re like the world-renowned expert on parting ways from a Nazi hit-man with a 70-year-old killing spree under his belt.” 

"Hey, don't talk to him like that,” comes Steve’s voice behind Bucky, and he resists the urge to sigh. He should have realized it the second Kyle looked over his shoulder. It obviously would have been Steve – he has the worst timing on the planet. 

Kyle – _oddly –_ seems pleased at the interruption.”I'm sure the Winter Soldier can speak for himself."

Bucky isn’t even surprised at Steve’s response – he probably would have lip-synced to Steve’s words if he were committed enough. It’s just a reprimanding scowl, following by a "That wasn't Bucky" 

There’s an expression of delight that forms itself on Kyle’s face, as if he was desperately hoping for that exact response from Steve.

“ _Woah._ Cap’n _America!”_ Kyle says, looking at Steve with an odd fascination. Then he sighs in a manner that is obviously exaggerated, and something uncomfortable stirs inside Bucky.

“Man, I _hate_ to say this… but I beg to differ." It's followed by a grin, and Bucky’s suspicion is confirmed when Kyle holds up the page that Bucky had filled with a scribbled ‘Have a good one, Kyle ––Winter Soldier.’ Kyle waits a few seconds, watching as Steve’s face goes through its usual comic variety of expressions. Bucky gets the feeling he should probably say something, but talking around Steve usually ends with a disappointed-Captain-America glance at Bucky.

Kyle, apparently, is relishing this conversation. “You know, Captain, communication is key. You never know what keeping a secret can do to a person."

To say that _that_ was the wrong thing to say would be a severe underestimation. Thankfully, Steve keeps his response verbal. Mostly. 

Steve takes another step forward, putting his arm out in a motion that apparently shields Bucky – a supersoldier ex-assassin – from a 5’6” teenage boy. It’s supposed to be a protective gesture towards Bucky, while at the same time being intimidating towards the boy, who actually has to crane his neck to meet Steve’s eyes. 

“Watch your tone, kid,” is what Steve says, but the underlying _or else_ remains unspoken. Whether Kyle realized that or not, (though Bucky’s sure he did) his expression doesn’t flicker, but there is an expression of slight discomfort at having to tilt his head to maintain eye contact with Steve. 

“Or what?” Kyle asks, tone on the threshold for something inciting. “You got another shield to ram inside my chest?” 

_All of Tony's visitors have, in some way or the other, tried to provoke a reaction._

Steve makes a move, but Bucky’s fast enough – gripping his arm just before Steve does god knows what. 

“Steve, what the _hell_? He’s just a kid.” The reminder apparently knocks some sense into Steve, who stares at Bucky in conflict before finally relenting.

“Yeah, man. Chill out,” Kyle says, shooting an odd look at Steve before edging his way around the pair to get across them. Kyle takes a second to pause, and then nods in Bucky’s direction.“Nice meeting you, Soldier.”

“Where are you going?” Steve grits out, just as Kyle passes him. 

“Meeting a friend. Tony Stark.” Kyle stops, and then cocks his head at Steve. “Maybe you’ve heard of him?” 

“You’re meeting Tony?” 

“Isn’t that–” Kyle’s overly confused expressions flicks from Steve to Bucky a few more times before settling on Steve. “Isn’t that what I just said?” 

“I’m coming with you,” Steve says – doesn’t even ask. Bucky feels the need to apologize for Steve’s intrusion.

“Uh, sure?” Kyle looks at Bucky, almost like he read his mind about wanting to say something, but Bucky just stares right back. Kyle continues, looking back to Steve. “Just… keep distance.” 

The boy starts walking, and he doesn’t even look back even once, but whenever Steve tries to speed up – try to close the distance – Kyle speeds up the exact same minute. It’s a weird game of cat and mouse. They soon turn the corner that approaches the elevator – Bucky a few steps behind Steve, while both of them are at least a good few feet behind Kyle. 

The elevator doors slide open in accordance with Kyle’s pace – the boy doesn’t even need to alter his pace as he walks straight into the elevator. Steve promptly follows, almost _lunging_ into the space, but Bucky stops right outside. He’s not the one insistent on meeting Stark anyway, and something tells him his presence wouldn’t be necessarily welcome. 

There are a few seconds of Bucky staring at the pair, and the pair staring right back before Kyle speaks. “Okay, this usually closes by now.” 

**_“It would have closed if the Captain had access to Boss’ workshop.”_ **

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, expression turning into an offended scowl. He jerks his thumb at Kyle and continues, “How does _this guy_ have access and not me?” 

**_“That’s something you could have asked Boss when he was in your room last evening.”_ **

Wait. “What?” 

Stark had visited Steve? 

“Just tell him I’m coming to see him,” Steve demands, expecting Stark’s AI to actually fold. Bucky’s not even surprised that Steve doesn’t acknowledge Bucky’s question, or FRIDAY’s mention of him meeting Stark. 

**_“Unfortunately, Boss has muted me. I am against disobeying direct orders or startling my Boss in his already compromised condition. Since Mr. Kyle has access, I see no reason to deny him as such.”_ **

“ _Compromised_ ?” Bucky asks – louder this time. He can sense Kyle looking at him. “What does that mean?” Steve only glances at Bucky briefly before turning his attention to the elevator ceiling. _What the hell?_

“That’s not fair,” Steve argues indignantly. “You’re telling me Tony’s given access to random strangers but not me? Or any of us? We’ve fought together.” 

**_“You have also fought against each other.”_ ** Bucky feels a spike of guilt at the words. **_“Now, please exit the elevator.”_ **

“No, either you take me down to the workshop or you take none of us down.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest in what is believed to be the defying act of stubbornness.

“For Gods’ sake Steve,” Bucky grits out, equal amounts of anger and embarrassment rising inside him that Kyle’s being an audience to Steve’s current bout of ignorance. _“Get out.”_

“Buck,” Steve says, _finally_ acknowledging Bucky’s presence. “This has gone on for long enough. He’s just blatantly refusing to meet us – it’s _childish._ ” 

“FRIDAY just said he met you.” Bucky retaliates, and Steve’s face dims. His mind works fast enough to come up with another excuse.

“He didn’t even give me a chance to finish the conversation.” 

“Maybe the conversation was done for him?” Kyle speaks up for the first time in the current interaction. “I don’t know man, whatever it is – he’s not interested in seeing you, so just–” He brings his hand up to do a _shoo_ motion, and Steve just glowers at him. 

Steve then looks at Bucky, as if expecting Bucky to back him up, because _now_ he needs Bucky to speak. When Steve doesn’t get a response from Bucky, and Kyle continues to stare expectantly at him, Steve moves out of the elevator. He’s stubborn enough to make it as slow as he can. 

The doors slide shut just as Steve takes the last step out, and Bucky has no doubt that was an intentional move by FRIDAY.

“You talked to him.” 

Steve looks up, and Bucky notices the moment Steve realizes he can’t avoid the conversation anymore. 

“Yeah,” is all Steve says. Nothing more – so Bucky pushes. If Steve’s not going to talk, Bucky might as well follow in the steps of Stark’s friends. 

“Did you attack him?” 

“What? Of course not.” Steve has the gall to look offended, as if attacking someone would be the most un-Steve thing to do. 

“FRIDAY said Stark’s compromised. I doubt it’s because she couldn’t find another word for ‘he’s fine.’” 

“He _is,”_ Steve insists, and Bucky knows a lie when he hears one. Especially when it’s Steve, and _especially_ when he knows Steve’s tell. “It’s the same injury from Siberia. He’s recovering.” 

“It’s been three months.” Wakanda’s scientists took just under a month to create a new arm for Bucky, and within a month – the scars from Siberia were just that. Scars – fading like a distant memory. 

And yet, three months later, _Tony Stark_ is still recovering? 

Granted, Stark may have knocked Bucky out for a few moments, and as a result, Bucky may not have been privy to the fight that followed between Steve and Stark. But, as much as he _knew_ Steve was strong, Stark made up for that and _more_ with his brains and his armor. Even his limited interactions with Stark – both in and outside his suit – had made Bucky realize that the guy was extremely perceptive and quick on his feet. To believe that Stark _wouldn't_ have equipped his armor with necessary weaponry would have been a severe mockery of the man's abilities. 

“I _know_ that, Buck." It's said in a tone that’s supposed to make Bucky guilty. It doesn't, but it halts Bucky’s train of thought anyway. “I didn’t realize I injured him more than I thought I had. And– _God,_ you should have seen him last night – he was still trying to provoke me; trying to put _us_ at fault.” 

“We _were_ at fault." Bucky snaps, and Steve looks slightly taken aback at the sudden shift in tone. Bucky's taken aback himself that Steve can't seem to grasp his mind around that simple fact. "You should have told him about his parents.” 

“You know what Stark would have done to you if I had.” 

Steve says that with the confidence that Bucky _knows_ , when Bucky doesn’t know what Stark would have done – not really. He understood Stark’s anger, understood that there was very little that could anger the suave man. But that’s all he knows. 

Steve’s still intent on justifying his actions. “And when the guy brought up the shield, and the scar– I lost it.” 

“You _lost_ it?” Bucky repeats, his own anger flaring at the words. It suddenly strikes him that this is the most he’s ever spoken since his arrival at the Compound. “You nearly attacked a kid! You can’t just keep picking fights, Steve.” Bucky sighs, and Steve opens his mouth to respond when the slight shake off Bucky’s head stops him.

The serum changed Steve physically, but Bucky’s just realized that deep inside, Steve’s the still same kid who picked fights with everyone who offended him even in the slightest. The same kid who got taken down with a single punch - the kid who was all skin and bones – suddenly seemed to be abusing his power. 

Now, Steve gets into fights because he _can._ Because once upon a time, Steve was the one in Kyle’s place, and there was no one to stop the punch that had been delivered soon after. 

Steve says something – defensive, going by the tone – but Bucky’s already increasing the distance between them as he walks away. He knows Steve enough to know it wasn’t an apology. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update! My dumbass decided to join like four online courses spontaneously and now I'm suffering the consequences of my actions 👀

“How much longer do I have to be attached to this thing?” Tony grits out, pain flaring inside him as Helen checks for infections across his chest. Her fingers are continuously pressing on the diagonal stretch of swollen skin that a shield had once punctured, now shifted to the skin around the ECMO tube penetrating his chest.

Loki, in all his succor, is standing by and freely watching Tony squirm and wiggle helplessly in pain. He glowers in Loki’s direction, which only earns him a smug smile in response. 

“Since your heart and the rest of your body have already been weakened through your years of operating the Iron Man suit, the scans show slow healing,” Helen says, not even sounding the least bit sympathetic, and moves to the stack echo-cardiogram scans Loki had placed on the table beside her. 

The doctor had given Loki the responsibility of taking a cardiac echo of Tony every alternate day to check his progress. Tony had honest-to-god thought she was joking at first – there was _no way_ Loki would have actually committed to something when it doesn’t serve his own interests – but when Loki had solemnly agreed, had _accepted_ Tony’s health as a dignified responsibility, Tony had stopped short in shock. 

The thing was, until that very moment, Loki had come off as an overly nonchalant, reckless son of a bitch, who was, sure, _careful_ , but only in all the wrong ways – like successfully pulling _several_ fast ones on Tony, which of course, Tony had tried to retaliate with his best effort. Tried. 

Which, Tony figures, was also why they clicked right from the moment they started talking – Loki couldn’t care less about the consequences of his actions, not when consequences didn’t concern him, which means he had a trail of never-ending stories that spanned the entire millennia of a life. Gods, and elves, and dwarves who had sublimely fallen victim to Loki’s crimes ( _pranks,_ was the word Loki had used), and had taken it upon themselves to exact revenge (and not often the mischievous kind) upon Loki and/or Asgard. 

Naturally, when it came to topics of pure recklessness and getting away with it, Tony was an avid listener, and he fell hook, line and sinker into Loki’s wonderful narrations; words and phrases that seemed almost tailor-made for Tony’s ears – but the subtext in all of Loki’s stories was the fact that the god is a disaster at committing to things when the result of said commitment doesn’t benefit said god. 

But Tony was in for one hell of a surprise when Loki this-doesn’t-interest-me Laufeyson had taken it upon himself to unequivocally cosset Tony Stark, taking his scans at 1:00 pm on the dot, every alternate day. Not even a _minute_ late, which meant that often there were times when Tony had to ditch his fresh-out-of-bed-coffee, ( _so_ he woke up at half past noon sometimes, _sue him._ He was _injured.)_ leave his food halfway through, _pause_ his movie marathon right in the middle of a fundamental scene, and in some very rare, embarrassing situations, had been forced to rush his toilet time. 

That wasn’t even the _worst_ of it, because being Tony’s personal doctor just wasn’t _enough_ , he became Tony’s personal dietitian, (read: not more than two cups of coffee a day) physiotherapist, stylist, (read: dressing him in and out of pajamas) his personal movie picker – if that’s a thing (read: no horror or overly comedic films that may result in an increased heart-rate) and full-time nanny. 

And yet, Tony played along with the new-and-improved mother hen Loki only because Loki was an amazing conversationalist.

_Only because._

“And going by your current rate of healing,” Helen continues, after a good long comparison of the scans. “You’ll have to be on this for at least another month.” 

“Great,” Tony breathes out. 

“Another month of undressing him before bed?” Loki asks from where he’s standing by the machine. There’s an impish smile on his face. 

“Don’t get cocky,” Tony shoots, right as Helen hums in amusement, her eyes still on the scans. 

Loki straightens at the sound, eyes shifting to immediate concern as he peers at the scans. “What do you see?” And that—

 _That_ is a question that spells trouble for Tony for at least the next ten days, because _any_ irregularities in his body will be the next new excuse that Loki will use to justify his overly-protective behavior towards Tony. 

“Oh, nothing,” she says, and Tony breathes a sigh of relief. Which ends short-lived, because she looks up at Loki with a smile too saccharine to be real. “I was about to suggest that you ask him out, then I realized you’d have to wait a month – give or take.” 

Loki’s brows knit into a scowl. He goes on the defense first – which was his first mistake, because that’s Loki’s _tell._

“ _What_ ?” Loki blurts out, and it takes him under a second to compose himself. “I assure you, I am _not_ trying to court Anthony.” Helen’s expression doesn’t change, so he switches to the offense, eyes narrowing. “I suggest you stick to your area of expertise. Jealousy is not a good color on you, doctor.” 

“Okay,” Helen nods, but it’s an explicit dismissal of Loki’s words. She turns her attention to the scans and the god just purses his lips in annoyance. Tony pushes this very interesting topic of conversation for a later time – hopefully the next time Loki stops him from drinking coffee. 

“As much as I love this, any chance we could speed up the healing process?” Tony asks, and both sets of eyes turn to him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being coddled, but it feels like my immune system is just slacking. It’s embarrassing, really.” 

“I’ve given you the best medicines and treatment that money can get, Tony. If there’s anything else, it’s not on Earth,” Helen says, an apologetic expression pulling at her face. Behind her, Loki stills, looks at Tony like he’s just had a revelation, and promptly vanishes. 

Helen follows Tony’s gaze, only to see an absent Loki. “Where’d he go?” 

Tony sighs. “I’m assuming somewhere not on Earth.” 

  
  


Loki returns two days later – literally T minus thirty minutes to Tony’s scheduled scan – calm and pacified like he hadn’t even been gone in the first place. Tony sits up from the bed, Loki meets his eye and—

“Vanaheim,” Loki says before Tony can even get a word out, providing an answer to the question that was just about to leave Tony’s mouth. Tony slumps at the missed opportunity of being the mother hen for once. 

He’d been gearing up to the instance when Loki would show up, vulnerable Tony’s onslaught of questions and reprimands about how _irresponsible_ Loki had been to just leave an injured man _alone_. He also had the grounds to bring up unpredictable behavior – Loki rarely left without announcing his departure, and more than that, he’s rarely gone for more than a day. 

So really, it was Tony’s _duty_ to give Loki hell. 

“Vanaheim,” Tony repeats, annoyance sizzling into deep thought. He’s heard that word before. “Vanaheim,” he says again, and really, now he’s just bargaining for time. Loki notices it – of course he does. 

“One of the Nine Realms; home of the Vanir.” 

“Tip of my tongue,” Tony defends, and then; “why?” 

“I was in need of a favor,” Loki shrugs, maybe a little too casual. Now Tony’s stuck on debating whether the favor is as mundane as Loki’s implying, or whether he’s just looking too much into it. 

“If said favor doesn’t magically heal me, you’re up for one hell of a lecture that’s been two days in the making,” Tony airily warns. 

Loki stares at him and then avoids eye contact altogether. 

A flurry of hope sparks inside him as he registers Loki’s silent response. “It magically heals me.” 

“It’s possible,” Loki admits, but he doesn’t sound all too pleased confessing it. When is magical healing _not_ a good idea? It’s _healing,_ and it’s _magic,_ which means – and as much as Tony hates to admit it – it trumps whatever _science_ healing there is. Tony stares at him with an expression that can only be described as a magnitude of question marks imprinted all over his face.

“It’s an ancient elixir made from a Rosephasia leaf,” Loki says, by way of explanation – very helpful – because of _course_ Tony knows all about alien flora and fauna.“It’s only used on Vanir.” 

“Loki, you need to know something,” Tony states, and Loki’s eyes focus on him with only a hint of worry. “And I’m sorry I’ve kept this from you for so long, but I’m not a damn _Vanir_.” Loki purses his lips in slight annoyance, nostrils flaring as he levels Tony with a rather impressive glare. 

He gets it; desperate times call for desperate measures – but this? It’s desperate to the point of _pathetic_ . Not to say that he doesn’t appreciate Loki – he does (appreciates everything Loki does if he’s being honest) – but Tony’s still human, his physiology is plain _depressing_ compared to that of the Vanir – who are _literal_ gods. And Loki’s response of “it’s possible” is, in human translation, _no fucking clue._

So, yes. Tony’s worried. 

“Would you rather continue living in this pitiful state for an entire month, or entertain the possibility that you won’t have to?” Loki brings up his hand in front of him, splaying his palms out just as a glass vial pops into existence. There’s a light pink, almost translucent liquid filled just halfway. 

_I won’t have to,_ Tony supplies, _because it’ll likely disintegrate my very human organs._

Unfortunately, Loki confuses Tony’s silence for a no. Loki scowls, and brings his fingers into a tight fist, crushing the vial. There’s the chink of glass breaking. 

“ _What the hell?_ Why did you do—” 

Loki smirks, opening his palm. The vial is intact, pink fluid still very much present. _Son of a bitch._

“—that. Okay. You got me.” 

The god hums, apparently satisfied that Tony had fallen right into his trap, and moves forward to stand beside Tony’s bed. Loki brings the elixir up to his eye-level, shakes it a bit, and uncorks it. 

“It’s not the first time chlorophyll juice decided my fate,” Tony recollects the good ol’ palladium poisoning shebang, right as Loki leans in to smell the liquid. He stops, and then peers at Tony in curiosity. 

“I don’t understand.”

“I know,” Tony says, and Loki’s frown deepens. “You’re still young – you’ll learn.” The jab at his age only infuriates Loki even more. He huffs, and angles the vial right above Tony’s torso, over the big fat pulpy skin furnished across his chest. 

“I’m going to let a drop fall on the wound the Captain left over your skin,” Loki says, eyes flicking up to Tony’s as if asking for consent. 

“Go for it,” Tony assures. “Not like it can get worse.” 

“One can hope,” Loki adds dryly. 

Tony pulls up a face of mock offense. “Excuse me?” 

A beat passes before Loki looks up, and there’s something else masked under electric green eyes. “One can hope,” Loki repeats, and Tony suddenly gets the feeling it’s not repeated with the same context in mind. All too soon, the looming tsunami of realization washes over him. 

_I assure you, I am_ not _trying to court Anthony._

Loki’s still staring at him, eyes trained on every single one of Tony’s movements, even on the slightest shift of muscle, waiting for a response. Tony’s mind is now a jumbled mess, racing with thoughts of how many times he’d been blind enough to miss the signals. 

“How do you feel?” Loki asks, and Tony’s brain short-circuits. Oh god, _oh god oh god._

“Uh– I– I’m sorry. I think you’ve, um, misunderstood the situation—” Tony stops when Loki frowns, and _yup, Loki’s going to disappear and never come back._

“What are you talking about?” Loki asks. Tony blinks, and Loki looks down. “I was talking about the—” 

Tony follows his gaze, and—

_Oh._

“—elixir.” Loki finishes, and looks back up at Tony, who just blinks again. 

“I dunno, still feels the same to me,” Tony finally manages to say, hoping his cheeks aren’t _flushed_ with embarrassment. What was he _thinking?!_

“We’ll wait until after your scans,” Loki says, and glances at the clock, which blinks 12:45 in neon green digits. 

**_“Boss, pizza’s here.”_ **FRIDAY’s voice sounds around the workshop. Tony mentally praises FRIDAY, the pizza delivery guy, the pizza place, the inventor of pizzas, the inventor of automobiles, and whatever gods he could list out for the fact that time and space culminated in this perfect distraction. 

“Oh, great,” Tony sighs, unable to resist the relief flooding into his words. Hopefully, Loki only deciphers it as Tony’s love for pizzas. He smiles at the god in front of him, motioning to the elevator. “Loki, if you could please.” 

The god scowls. It lasts for about three seconds. 

“I am not your servant,” Loki finally huffs, and yet, he straightens, the vial in his hand vanishing into thin air before turning and walking away. 

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me,” Tony calls out to the retreating figure, his own face breaking into a grin. 

Loki gets in the elevator, and right as the doors close, there’s an all-too-familiar glimmer that runs through Loki’s body, reflected in the metal walls of the elevator. 

“For Gods’ sake,” Tony mutters under his breath. “FRIDAY, keep an eye on Loki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist myself from making a chapter dedicated to Tony&Loki, heh.  
> Also, to make up for the long gap in the updates, next chapter will be up in a few hours! :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bone apple tea 👀

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologizes to the uniformed boy at the Compound entrance. He’s holding three boxes of pizza stacked over his hands, wary eyes flitting from Steve to Clint, and back to Steve again. “We haven’t ordered anything. You have the wrong address.” 

The boy takes one long look at Steve and drags his eyes down to the receipt taped over the top box. “I really don’t,” he says, and looks up at the building. “This is the address for the order, and it’s the only building in a 6 mile radius.” 

“That makes no sense,” Clint says, and looks at Steve before looking back at the boy. “Nobody ordered anything from here.”

“But this is the address,” the boy protests, albeit weakly. Steve notices a split second of doubt in the boy’s face.

“Is it at least paid for?” Clint asks. 

“Clint,” Steve chides, just as the delivery boy replies with a “No.” 

Clint shrugs in a gesture of _worth-a-shot_ as Steve turns his attention back to the boy. “Who ordered it?” 

“A... Mr. Narky Tots?” the boy says, almost sounding like a question. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that it’s a made-up name. 

“Narky Tots?” Clint repeats incredulously. “Who the—” 

A different voice cuts him off from behind them. “Hi! That would be me.” 

The delivery boy looks over Steve’s shoulder, just as Steve whirls around to face the newcomer. It’s a guy – who looks to be somewhere in his early twenties, approaching them with the confidence of someone who owns the very ground he walks upon. With dark hair and a pair of brilliant green eyes to match, the guy’s vividly familiar appearance makes Steve feel somewhat on edge.

“Who are you?” Steve asks, his words coming out sharper than intended. He’s almost had enough of strangers barging into the Compound and walking around like they own the place, with the words and behaviour of someone who thinks Steve and his team are nothing but an inconvenience. 

The guy snorts ungracefully, which immediately loses him a point from gaining Steve’s respect. “Well, I’m not Narky Tots if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“But I did order the pizza.” He says, and Clint and Steve part as the guy walks between them and stops in front of the delivery boy. He hands the delivery boy a crisp $50 bill, nodding a _“thanks”_ as he takes the pizzas into his hands. The delivery boy doesn’t even spare another moment standing there; instead, he turns a swift 180 and walks away. 

“For whom?” 

“My dead grandfather,” the guy responds dryly at Clint’s question, before turning around and increasing the distance between them. “Who do you think?” He calls out over his shoulder.

Steve is quick to move, trailing after the guy. “You don’t stay here.”

“Excellent observation, Captain.” The guy says with a hint of scorn, and stops when he realizes that Steve has no intention of allowing him to walk away. He turns around, an impatient scowl on his face. 

“What, are you going to keep following me?” 

“Where are you going?” Steve asks instead, dodging the question where the answer was fairly obvious. 

“If I answer will you stop following me? Aren’t you like the self-appointed leader of the Avengers?” The guy returns the dodge, steering the conversation to something that is likely a ruse to offend Steve. “You should be _leading,_ not following, Captain,” he adds pointedly, as if bestowing upon Steve some valuable life advice.

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. “Which gives me a right to know what strangers are doing in the compound.” 

“Just because I’m a stranger to you hardly means I’m a stranger to everybody else.” 

“Nobody here knows you,” Steve counters almost immediately. 

“Amazing.” The guy’s eyes widen in mock surprise. “Did you just ask everybody in the compound during that one second, or are you just making that decision for the others?” 

Just as predicted, a ruse to offend Steve. 

“You here for Scott?” Clint asks from where he came to a stop beside Steve. “He’s not here.”

The guy frowns. “Who?” 

Steve sighs, just loud enough that the guy’s attention turns to him.“I know nobody here knows you.” 

“Are you sure? Did you ask _everybody?_ ” There’s an emphasis on the last word, and Steve’s just about to repeat his answer when he realizes he hadn’t included _everyone_ under that umbrella. 

“You’re Tony’s friend.” 

“Ah,” the guy smiles, something else flashing in his eyes entirely. “I do lust a man who’s observant.” 

_What?_

Steve’s expression must have given away something, because the guy’s expression dims. “Oh, my bad. I assumed you and Barnes broke up. Really–” –his eyes open wide with sincerity, “–my bad.” 

Next to him, Clint nearly gets whiplash at how fast his head snaps to Steve.“You _dated_?” 

“No!” Steve counters immediately. “Of course not.” 

“Shame,” the guy comments, looking anything but disappointed, which Steve decides to look over in favor of a more pressing concern. 

“How is Tony?” He asks softly. 

_“My,_ Captain,” the guy exclaims with faux innocence. “Are you worried?” 

“Of course I am.” 

“Of course,” comes the repeated response, like he doesn’t really take Steve’s word for it. 

“I need to meet Tony,” Steve says. Maybe this guy is more willing to speak on Steve’s behalf, but it’s chances seem to be dwindling in great amounts. 

“Sure. You may go right ahead,” the guy waves his hand like he couldn’t care less about Steve’s demand, and turns to walk away. “I hardly have ownership over Tony or the Compound.”

“You sure seem to be acting like it,” Clint mutters under his breath, and Steve barely makes out the words, but by some miracle, the guy walking 15 feet away hears it. He stops, and turns to the pair with an acidic smile on his face, eyes flashing with a challenge that doesn’t even waver.

“My performance is nothing compared to yours, Mr. Barton.” The guy's vocabulary takes a whole 180°, his voice no more an American drawl but more clipped; edging towards posh. 

“Excuse me?” Clint straightens, his words laced with a subtle threat. 

The guy blinks, almost innocent, but Steve gets the feeling the response that follows would be far from it. “Are you not one to incessantly flaunt your demands at Tony if and when you feel it?” The guy asks, and then as an afterthought, adds, “Almost like you think he’s under your mind control.” 

Clint’s jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides as he takes a step forward in warning. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I suppose I don’t,” the guy hums, amusement colouring his face as he observes Clint. It takes him only a moment to snap out of it before looking at Steve. “Now, if you’ll pardon me, my pizzas are getting colder. I’m afraid my taste buds are not a fan of cold cheese.” 

“What, you have the balls to pick a fight but not end it?” 

Apparently, Clint isn’t done. 

“Clint, he didn’t mean it,” Steve says, reaching his hand out to pull Clint back by the arm. 

“Oh,” the guy laughs derisively, the sound ringing warning bells in Steve’s mind. “I meant it.” 

“Hey, back off. This is none of your business,” Steve says, but his grip around tightens. They can’t risk harming an unarmed civilian within the Compound – there’s no doubt Tony would make FRIDAY release the footage worldwide. 

“You’d know all about that, Captain,” the guy smiles like a predator whose prey just walked into a trap, but it stops all too abruptly, eyes narrowing in threat. “Keeping the Stark murders a secret from their own son was none of yours.” 

Steve hadn’t expected that, and Clint uses that moment to jerk Steve’s grip away, a low growl emitting in his throat as he starts taking purposeful strides towards the guy. 

“You his boy-toy? Stark couldn’t pick his fights so he sent you?” Steve doesn’t have to look at Clint to know that the rage in the man’s eyes was incomparable, and any person would find themselves stumbling to get away. This guy, however, his expression doesn’t waver – he doesn’t even move – instead continues to stare Clint down as he comes to a stop in front of the guy. The stack of pizza boxes are the only thing that’s keeping them apart. 

“I assure you, if I wanted to pick a fight, you’d be dead,” the guy says lazily, seemingly unaware of the threat laced in Clint’s behaviour. Steve gets the sinking feeling that neither Clint nor the guy will back down, which means that this will most likely turn physical in a matter of seconds. 

**_“The time is 1:00pm.”_ **comes FRIDAY’s voice from around them, and instinctively, both Clint and Steve look up at the ceiling. It seemed unlikely that FRIDAY shared the time for the sake of keeping them updated, rather tried to break up the inevitable fight that would have soon ensued. Steve looks back at Clint, who’s staring at him with a disbelieving frown, which Steve soon realizes is because the guy in front of him had supposedly disappeared in a single second. 

═════════════

Natasha watches as Barnes freezes midstep, just barely out of his room, and his head whips in her direction. She’s leaning against the wall, her arms folded across her chest in what she hopes he’ll think is a gesture of ease. It’s past midnight, and while not everyone may be asleep, she doesn’t expect them to be lounging the corridors, which gives her the privacy they need.

“You’re certainly a hard man to find,” she notes, unable to decipher the expression on Barnes’ face. Either way, he doesn’t seem to be pleased. 

“I keep to myself,” he says. He stares at her for a short second, and apparently realizing that there’s much more to the conversation, turns to face her fully. “Did you need something?” 

Straight to the point. She hadn’t expected him to engage in small-talk anyway. 

“Yes. I wanted to talk to you about Siberia.” His expression doesn’t even flicker at the mention of the place. 

“You’ll have to be more specific,” he says – slowly, carefully – as if analyzing Natasha’s own reactions. “I was there for seventy years.” 

“The time when Tony Stark found out the Winter Soldier killed his parents,” Natasha says point-blank.

There’s no point in sugar coating it. There are only three people who know what went down in Siberia. One of them is a selfish, self-defensive man who doesn’t think twice of his actions, and the other is most likely dead. Which leaves her to face the Soldier itself. 

They never interacted much during the past three months – Barnes had always kept to himself, and Steve had never let him out of his sight, which Natasha had brushed aside as being reunited with a long-lost friend. But now she knows that it was Steve’s last remaining effort to keep the others from finding out what really happened, specifically, what really happened to Tony, and not wanting to risk Barnes from accidentally spilling the beans. 

There’s also the fact that none of them suspected a thing until they arrived at the Compound, not until Tony’s companions started stirring pots that weren’t meant to be stirred. 

Barnes continues to stare at Natasha, and she suddenly wonders if this is what it feels like to be on the other side – Barnes is a trained killer, with almost triple the years of her own experience, and he knows how to read someone, knows how to classify as enemy or friend, to differentiate fact from fiction. 

“He got angry,” Barnes says, and Natasha thinks that’s all she’s going to get until he continues speaking. “Steve had known about it the entire time. Stark lashed out, and we were forced to attack.” 

Natasha nods, looking away – she’d figured that much. Steve had most likely guilt-tripped Barnes into not revealing anything that happened, and she doesn’t have to think twice about where Barnes’ loyalties would lie. 

“He had a right to be angry,” Barnes confesses, his words heavy with guilt. Natasha’s eyes snap to him in surprise. “We didn’t have a right to attack him.”

This is the longest conversation she’s ever had with Barnes without Steve interrupting them with seemingly innocent questions of ‘what are you talking about’ or equally innocent deviations from their conversations with a memory from 40’s Brooklyn. And just like that, she’d allowed it, because Barnes was Steve’s friend, and to recover from seventy years of being brainwashed was no easy task, and she’d respected the fact that Barnes needed his space. 

“He wanted justice for his parents. I think that’s why he shot off my arm. Eliminated the weapon that was tainted with his parents’ blood,” Bucky admits, lifting his left arm to look at the replacement Wakanda’s scientists had fitted him with. “It still feels like a weapon.” 

“We’re assassins. We’ve trained every part of our body to be a weapon. There’s no going back from that,” she says. She knows exactly where Bucky’s coming from, what he’s feeling. She had felt it once, and it took her a long time to come to terms with it. The Red Room training was injected into her very nerves. It had shaped her behaviour; she could no longer walk away from that life – no matter how hard she tried.

“I had never seen rage like that on a man,” Bucky says silently. “During the fight, I felt fear. Fear for my life, for Steve’s, and Steve’s fear controlled him.” 

“It was self-defense,” she says. It’s meant to be consoling, but Barnes looks at her like she’d said something wrong. There’s a conflict in his eyes, like he’s debating on a response that she wants to hear, or a response that she needs to hear. 

“Sam told me Stark had promised to come as a friend,” Barnes says, and Natasha frowns. She hadn’t known that, which only means that Barnes _needed_ her to hear this. “He had no intent to kill us. Injure us, maybe, but we’re enhanced. We could take it,” he says.

 _But Stark couldn’t,_ is left unsaid. 

This was an assassin who nearly got away with killing her once. 

“Did you kill him?”

Barnes stares at her. “No.” 

“Did Steve kill him?” 

“I don’t know.” 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, 4.3k words - I may have gotten slightly carried away. 👀

The thing is, Steve knows it’s wrong. To even _consider_ the approach is something he would have severely frowned upon, something he would have avoided at _all costs_ … if he wasn’t in this situation. 

And by _this situation_ , he means the almost one week of radio silence from Tony. He knows that this is Tony’s stubbornness on display, testing the thinning threads of Steve’s patience just to see how far he can pull until they snap and Steve does something out of sheer recklessness. It would, essentially, be the perfect excuse for Tony to bring up Captain America’s instability. After all, who can trust a man so fickle? 

And like rubbing salt on the wound, Tony made it a point to give every person in the world access to the workshop except for Steve. And it’s almost like he’s trained them to start a fight with Steve, to poke and prod at matters that are far from their concern until Steve is forced to lose his temper. He’s tried to be friendly, tried to coax them into revealing something, _anything,_ about Tony, only for his efforts to be in vain. 

Steve had never forced anyone to join him – he took a stand. And while Tony and Rhodes didn’t agree with his decision, some of the others did. They made a choice because they knew they’re giving up their responsibility, and their rights as defenders of the planet. Bucky never even got the choice, but at least Steve was _helping_ him forget what happened, to leave his history with HYDRA and the remaining Winter Soldiers behind. Which is why it made him all the more furious to see Bucky being dragged right back into it, with Tony throwing accusations left and right when Tony _knows_ what he’s been through. 

Once upon a time, wasn’t Tony in a similar situation? Forced against his will to serve the enemy and make weapons for them in a cave? He escaped, but the remnants of the suit still reached the wrong hands. Nobody blamed him for that. 

Tony didn’t have a choice, and the situation was a hundred times worse when it came to Bucky. 

If Tony couldn’t even stand the _thought_ of his weapons killing people, how did he expect Bucky to deal with being forced to see the December 1991 footage, to see someone in his body commit cold-blooded murder without a second thought? 

If Clint could be excused for his actions under Loki’s control, how is Bucky’s situation any different? 

When it comes down to it, Tony’s equally to blame for whatever went down between them. Steve admitted his mistake, _explained_ himself and even provided a means for Tony to contact him because there’s only so much effort he can put in to mend the brewing pot of a relationship. Tony, however, refused to acknowledge any effort from Steve, refused to apologize for being partially responsible for what went down in Germany and Siberia. 

So, yes, Steve’s tried – several times, in fact – to reach out to Tony, to just talk it out and put their past conflicts behind them, only to eventually end up exhausting all his options. 

Which left him with a more unfavorable option, but an option nonetheless. 

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Wanda says, and her words act like a soothing balm to the tension brimming in his mind. “I won’t hurt them.”

“We’ll have to be careful,” Clint points out from where he’s standing a few feet away, his position allowing him to stand as the lookout in case someone approaches. “Wanda’s magic has been acting up around Stark’s friends lately.”

It’s only the three of them. It’s not because Steve doesn’t trust the others – he _does_ – but lately, it feels like Sam’s starting to distance himself from the rest of them, not wanting any part of their attempts to reach out to Tony; while Natasha’s asking questions that seem to be more and more accusatory, which is why Steve’s sure this is not something he wants her to be involved in. And Bucky was never meant to be a part of this anyway, which left Clint and Wanda. They seemed to understand Steve’s desperation. They knew they were wronged, and that this would have never happened if Tony just decided to look the other way when it came to the Accords. 

He doesn’t want to blame Tony – Steve knows the man tried, but _only if_ Tony had tried harder, they wouldn’t be where they are now. And Steve wouldn’t be forced to make this decision.

“I know,” Steve admits. What Clint pointed out was extremely worrying, not just for Wanda but for the rest of the team as well. Her magic was extremely powerful, almost unparalleled, and it’s never failed her before. He’s come up with no explanation as to how that could be happening, except for maybe Tony finally came up with some kind of device that could negate Wanda’s powers. He finds it almost unfair, because he knows Tony, and he knows that it wasn’t out of any form of concern from Tony but simply out of pure spite from having Wanda in the Compound. “We can work around that. We have to. Tony’s given us no other choice.”

Wanda nods, turning to Clint. “I can practice. Find a way to fight against Stark’s devices.” 

Clint stares at her, contemplating for a brief second before relenting with a shrug. “I mean, yeah. As long as it doesn’t–” Clint is turning back to the corridor when he stops mid-speech. He frowns. 

“What is it?” Steve asks, mind already racking up with some explanation for whoever’s approaching on why the three of them are just standing at the furthest side of the Compound. 

Clint shakes his head, like dismissing the concern as something minor. “Thought I just saw Rhodes. Anyway–”

“What? Where?” Steve asks, already moving. 

“He’s not gonna tell us anything,” Clint points out, just as Steve rushes past him. Granted, it’s unlikely Rhodey would even want to talk to Steve, but it’s worth a shot. They hadn’t ended things well in the previous phone call, and an apology gives Steve the excuse to approach Rhodey and re-establish some form of companionship. He reaches the end of the corridor and catches sight of Rhodey disappearing into the corner on the far right, towards the training area. Rhodey’s walking at a reasonably slow pace, giving Steve enough time to catch up to him. He runs, only to turn the corner and– 

What the hell. 

The training area is empty, save for Natasha somewhere to the left, letting out her pent-up anger on a punching bag. She’s quick to notice Steve’s presence, leveling him with an odd look that makes Steve feel strangely unwelcome. He does one more sweep of the training area before backing away, and putting himself out of Natasha’s earshot before addressing Friday.

“Friday, where’s Rhodes?” 

**_“Rhode Island is 157 miles from your current location.”_ **

Steve purses his lips. “That’s not what I meant.”

**_“You will have to be clear, Captain.”_ **

“Is James Rhodes in the Compound?”

 ** _“I’m sorry,”_** Friday says, and Steve thinks she sounds anything but. It’s slightly unnerving how Tony’s made his machines capable of emoting. _“_ ** _I was under the impression you are not to interfere with his whereabouts.”_**

“What gave you that impression?”

As expected, Steve gets no answer. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that asking Friday about Rhodey, Vision, Pepper or Tony would get him anywhere except right back to square one. He has no doubt that Tony played a role in this childish endeavor, and apparently, trying to talk to Tony about it is equally hopeless because neither Friday, nor Tony’s elevator budges when Steve tries to get access into the workshop. 

He lets out a heavy sigh before going back to Clint and Wanda, meeting them halfway. 

“No luck?” Clint asks as Steve slows to a stop in front of them. 

“No,” Steve shakes his head. “But Rhodes is far from an option. We need to get someone else.” The last thing they needed was someone putting up a fight – and creating unnecessary chaos. Their plan was bordering on high risk, and it was only Wanda’s confidence in her abilities and Steve’s confidence that they’re not doing anything to cause permanent harm that’s keeping them going. 

Drawing from past interactions, they conclude that Tony’s friends are more likely to be seen somewhere between the main entrance and Tony’s elevator. Sure, there was the one time Wanda and he met one of Tony’s female friends in the kitchen - where Wanda’s magic had failed her for the second time – but Steve figures their chances are higher the closer they are to Tony’s elevator. Or at least, that’s what he hopes. 

Steve’s been pacing around the main lobby area for the past half hour, practicing on a facade of nonchalance in case someone questions his intentions. He doesn’t think anybody would – not explicitly anyway – but he doesn’t want to run the risk of being put on the spot — especially with Natasha, who’s been brewing her own pot of suspicion lately. The last time he’d talked to her, or rather, _she’d_ talked to him, was when she was blatantly accusing him of murdering Tony in Siberia. Following that interaction, Steve’s tried several times to put it in the past, passing comments that may have once earned him a twitch of a smile, or innocent questions that would have been answered with a sarcastic comment. But, during every single one of his efforts, Natasha had quite literally looked the other way and paved the way for someone else to answer him. 

Steve suddenly stops mid-pace, ears catching on to a low murmur of voices that’s growing increasingly louder. The source, or rather, _sources,_ soon comes into view, deep in conversation as they make their way through the glass doors of the entrance. They don’t spot him at first, considering Steve is awkwardly lingering at the far right of the balcony that overlooks the lobby, but then they just continue to… not spot him. The stranger has Bucky hooked on to his every word, facial expressions matched with animated hand movements that sync effortlessly as he speaks. Steve tries not to make any visible movements as he strains to listen to their conversation, but to no avail. He can’t make out a single word. The guy with Bucky looks strangely familiar. From where Steve’s standing, it doesn’t give him enough of a vantage point to see his face clearly enough. 

As much as Steve appreciates someone interacting with Bucky without the layer of fearing the Winter Soldier, it’s equally concerning that the stranger seems so invested in Bucky. As far as Steve knows, and with history pretty much backing him up on this, it’s never ended well when an individual showed excess interest towards his friend. 

Bucky smiles at something the guy says; so immersed in the conversation that he continues to remain oblivious about Steve gawking from above. Steve finds a reason to feel concerned, in that Bucky didn’t even take in his immediate surroundings before entering the area; wholly absorbed in the conversation with the stranger. While Steve hated that HYDRA brainwashed Bucky in such a manner that he’s forced to be wary of his surroundings at all times, he can’t deny that it’s continued to serve as somewhat of a benefit when they enter new or unfamiliar areas. Or even familiar areas – considering Bucky’s eyes always wander the moment he steps into a room or area in the Compound. 

Steve’s too far out of earshot to make out their conversation, but the way that Bucky’s responding to the strangers’ words creates a spike of jealousy in Steve. He doesn’t remember the last time Bucky’s been like that with him – ever since Bucky freed himself from HYDRA, he’s always been distant and oddly unresponsive **.** It takes Steve another second to realize that he hadn’t even seen Bucky walking out of the Compound in the first place. Bucky could have been gone for who knows how long, and Steve hadn’t even _noticed._

The pair eventually disappear from Steve’s view as they walk under the balcony he’s standing on. Steve counts a few seconds before he moves to the flight of stairs that lead down to the lobby. He’s overly cautious as he treads down the stairs, careful not to make a sound while trailing them. There’s a part of him trying to talk himself out of following the pair, but curiosity often gets the better of him. 

“-brain sends messages to the non-existent arm. A bit freaky, if you ask me.”

“I don’t know if I’ve felt it,” Bucky says, moving his metallic arm as if assessing it. Steve watches from a distance as the guy’s eyes linger on Bucky’s arm, which immediately flashes warning bells in Steve’s mind. He’d been right to worry about people’s interest in Bucky, mainly because they only saw him as the weapon attached to his left shoulder. Steve picks up speed, sounding his steps just enough to catch Bucky’s attention without making it obvious. After all, Steve couldn’t be blamed for walking around the Compound when he just so happened to stumble across Bucky and his friend. 

“Well, you have a limb already, so I don’t see how you would.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Bucky says, and the guy shrugs, clearly not very invested in defending his point. The silence that follows their conversation makes Steve’s presence obvious, and Bucky’s steps falter briefly before he turns. Steve could pinpoint the exact moment Bucky’s face closes, and it’s a painfully familiar expression that Steve realizes only then that it’s a deliberate mask around Steve. 

“Steve,” Bucky says, and Steve can’t decipher the tone at all. Something clicks in Bucky’s brain, and then his eyes narrow. “Were you following me?”

“I heard you talking,” Steve says by way of explanation, eyes dragging to the stranger in an effort to place the face from his memory. 

“I was,” Bucky answers pointedly, shifting Steve’s attention back to Bucky. The response makes Steve feel strangely intrusive, like he was suddenly unwelcome around Bucky and his new friend.

He tries not to read too much into Bucky’s implication, fearing it might take him to a plane of questioning their trust. And instead, asks: “Who’s your friend?” 

The guy huffs out an amused laugh. “Now I see what you meant by his habit of talking over people,” the guy says, cocking his head ever so slightly as he addresses Bucky. Steve feels a twinge of annoyance at the fact that Bucky and the guy seemed to have some kind of psychological conversation about Steve behind his back, especially when it downplayed Steve’s behavior. Bucky isn’t one to explicitly talk behind Steve’s back, which leaves Steve with the conclusion that the stranger was probably twisting Bucky’s words – it’s the only explanation. As far as Steve can remember, he’s never talked over Bucky, or anybody else for that matter. The guy’s looking at Steve expectantly, as if waiting for Steve to retaliate with some kind of defense, but Steve takes the higher road. 

“Sorry,” Steve says through an apologetic smile. “I’m Steve.”

“Yeah, I know who you are,” the guy responds scornfully as he folds his arms across his chest, making no effort to introduce himself. “Unfortunately, we’ve met.”

That explains it. Well, _most_ of it. He stares at the guy, mind rummaging through recent events as he considers the all too familiar manner of speaking, the confidence leaking into his speech, his familiarity to Bucky, and-

“Kyle,” Steve says the moment the brain supplies him with the name. This was the guy who brought up the Winter Soldier in front of Bucky and nearly initiated a fight with Steve. Why was Bucky spending time with him?

“Ding.” Kyle responds drily. Steve’s gaze flickers to Bucky, who’s blank-faced and staring right back at him. Closed off. 

“I didn’t know you were in the Compound,” Steve says, turning back to Kyle. He’d assumed most of Tony’s friends just came and went, only to never be seen again. He’s fairly sure this is the first time he’s seen one of Tony’s friends for the second time in the Compound. 

“One could say you didn’t need to know,” Kyle says, making no effort to play nice. Steve expects Bucky to react at the blatant dismissal, but Bucky stays firm in his spot, gaze fixed on Steve in a manner that even Steve can’t comprehend the reason why. 

“I’m sorry about what happened the last time we met. I wasn’t…” Steve trails off, searching for the proper word. “... myself.”

“Happens to the worst of us.” The words are joined with a sickly sweet smile, but the actual implication of Kyle’s words don’t go unnoticed, and Steve takes a moment to wonder if it was deliberate or if that’s just how Kyle was. The ambiguous manner of speaking that translates almost every response to ‘if the shoe fits.’ It’s dangerously close to the way Tony speaks sometimes, and Steve finds himself worrying on how often Tony tends to bring out the worst in people. Especially when it’s someone that Bucky seems to have found comfort in. He stares at Kyle for a brief second before turning to Bucky, who’s still staring at Steve. 

“Buck, Natasha was looking for you.” He’d seen her in the training area last, which was situated on the other end of the Compound. If push came to shove, it would give Steve and Wanda the time they needed. 

Bucky tenses. He stares at Steve for an oddly long moment, a hint of calculation in his eyes before they narrow. When he speaks, his voice is strained. “Why?” 

“She didn’t say.” Steve shrugs, making the movement as casual as possible. “You know how she is.” 

Bucky relaxes, ever so slightly, but Steve catches it. “Okay,” he nods. He takes a moment, eyes flicking in thought before he turns to Kyle. “Guess I’ll see you around.” 

Steve uses the brief second where neither of them are paying attention to him to switch on the comm in his right ear, alerting Wanda and Clint to the conversation that is soon to follow.

“Yes,” Kyle confirms, and Bucky nods again before casting a wary glance in Steve’s direction and walking the opposite way from Steve. Kyle waits, watching Bucky as he retreats further and further away, before he starts walking back in the direction of the lobby. Steve stops him just as Kyle passes him. 

“Kyle,” Steve calls out the name a little louder than necessary. He softens his voice before continuing. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure,” he shrugs. “Though I like to keep some distance between myself and people prone to attacking me.” 

Steve purses his lips, slightly angry that Kyle seems to find some kind of pleasure in making Steve apologize for a third time. “I told you I’m sorry.” 

A non-committal hum emerges somewhere from his throat as Kyle smiles. “Yes, well – if only the word is as powerful as you think it is.” He takes a few steps away, increasing the distance between them, and Steve thinks Kyle’s going to leave it at that until he speaks again. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Tony.” Steve quite literally jumps at the opening. If Kyle was this willing to converse, Steve might not need Wanda’s help after all. 

“That’s a who, not a what,” Kyle points out and the frown that slips into Steve’s face is immediate, previous hope vanishing into thin air. Kyle’s leaning towards taking a defensive stance in the conversation, intent on picking out Steve’s words and shooting them back as if Steve was deliberately trying to offend Tony. 

“I know that,” Steve answers calmly, not wanting to agitate the young man any more than he already has.

“If you did, you would have said you wanted to talk about some _one_ instead of something.” Steve sighs. He really has to take the time to wonder about the kind of stories Tony’s been feeding them with to make them behave this way. 

“You don’t have to make an enemy out of me, Kyle,” Steve says, relying on the same tone he uses when he talks to Wanda. Initially, she had often been prone to sudden outbursts, following which she was quick to defend herself, but Steve had helped. It took time, but he eventually made it through to her. Speaking of which, Steve hopes Wanda and Clint are on their way. Kyle’s patience seems to be wearing thin, but in some odd stroke of luck, the young man just continues to remain where he is. “How is he?”

Kyle blinks. “How is who?”

“Tony.”

“What, now he’s a person?” Kyle huffs out an amused laugh. “Seriously– make up your mind.” 

Steve’s about to respond with another reprimand when he spots Kyle’s gaze flick over Steve’s shoulder. There’s the beginning of an expression forming on Kyle’s face, a mixture of inconvenience and annoyance that couldn’t quite pull through before he’s thrown against the wall like a rag-doll. The wall crumbles with the force, dust flying from where Kyle’s body made impact. Kyle drops to the floor, slumped against the wall, and there’s a second where Steve worries he’s lost consciousness before he hears a low groan and spots signs of movement from Kyle. Steve turns on his heel, eyes fixing on Wanda. 

“I can make him forget,” she says before Steve can get a word in. It wasn’t Steve’s primary concern, considering he already knew she could – that’s what their plan relied on, after all. His concern was the fact that Wanda may have accidentally overexerted herself without realizing, going by the ever-obvious cracks on the wall. The wall is visibly caved in into an oval shape from the impact, veins of damage extending out from where Kyle’s back hit the wall. There’s a growing worry that it’s highly unlikely that someone of Kyle’s lean build could cause this kind of damage to concrete, which leaves the only answer that Wanda may have lost control. 

Clint appears beside her, eyes falling down to the figure. “He’s conscious,” Clint points out, which makes Steve’s attention turn back to Kyle, who’s managed to pick himself up to a standing position while heavily leaning against the wall. Even in his compromised state, Kyle’s raging eyes are focused on one thing and one thing only. 

“ _Witch_.” The words come out of him like poison, eyes sharp and fixated on Wanda as red magic swirls around her hands. Steve has to take a moment to register the fact that Kyle shows not even a hint of pain or discomfort as someone who was just thrown against a concrete wall, in a manner that Steve assumes would have made almost any civilian lose consciousness. 

Steve is the first to break the tension. He doesn’t want Wanda to do more damage than they’d planned – all they wanted was ask about Tony. Wanda’s magic was just in case things went south. “Just– tell us if Tony’s okay.” He sneaks a glance back at Wanda and Clint before turning to Kyle, and continues. “Don’t force us.” 

Kyle laughs derisively, and the expression just looks _wrong_ on Kyle’s face. “Force you?” He pushes himself away from the wall, posture straight and challenging. Kyle’s doing a fairly impressive job of hiding his pain. “To do what, if I may ask?” 

Steve hears footsteps nearing him, and it’s either Clint or Wanda coming forward with an answer. Wanda comes to a stop beside him, and Steve doesn’t even have to take his eyes off of Kyle to sense the magic spilling from her hands. 

“A human mind is fragile,” she says, making no effort to hide the threat laced in her words. Steve wasn’t very pleased that he didn’t get a chance to explain their actions before Wanda went for the shot. 

“Wanda–” Steve says, only to be cut off by a suddenly smug-faced Kyle. 

“Lucky me.” Kyle’s face shows genuine, saccharine delight, like he got the chance to present himself gift-wrapped for the challenge. Steve finds the triumphant grin plastered across Kyle’s face slightly unsettling, like he knows something they don’t. Could it be that Kyle knows about Tony putting magic-dampeners or something equivalent in the Compound? Steve is fairly sure that Kyle knows about Wanda’s powers, he called her a witch after all, and possibly even knows the magnitude of her powers. There are times when even Steve’s worried about the way Wanda uses her powers, but she continues to emphasize that she has it under control, and Steve’s never had any reason to doubt her. But, he can’t deny the fact that anybody who doesn’t know her would feel the slightest bit of fear in response to her magic. When the world witnesses something that goes against their beliefs, they take it upon themselves to fear the very thing. 

Kyle’s face shows nothing but amusement. 

Wanda’s magic lashes out again, red tendrils speeding towards Kyle. As fluid as a solid hand can be, Kyle waves his hand in across the air in front of him just as Wanda’s magic reaches him. Red disappears, and Steve barely has time to react or even comprehend what just happened before Wanda shoots again, from both hands this time. The magic almost reaches Kyle before it once again dissipates out of existence. Steve hears Clint mutter something along the lines of _what the hell_ before Kyle speaks. 

“Oh dear,” Kyle laments with faux innocence. “This is embarrassing.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooop, things are about to go downhill (or well, uphill for Loki) :D  
> Annd, in other news, only 4-5 chapters remaining for this fic to conclude 👀


	14. Chapter 14

"Oh dear," the guy starts, tilting his head to the side almost mockingly. "This is embarrassing."

To Clint, the guy - Karl or Cal or something of the sort - looks anything but embarrassed. He seems amused, actually, and it's oddly concerning. 

Partially because he rather impressively stood his ground against Wanda's magic – and Clint's never seen anybody do that, especially not when they knew the power she was capable of – and partially because, well, there's not a hint of fear in the guy as far as Clint can see. None at all. 

Clint's gotta hand it to the guy, really. But he sets aside the praise for later because now, they needed to get information from him, and the guy was being far from cooperative. He's immersed himself with the confidence of a man who thinks he can take down the three of them with no effort. If the need arises, of course.

Clint figures Stark has some kind of anti-magic device within the Compound, and this guy just as easily let it get to his head. 

The guy gives a haphazard shrug **.** "I admit, she caught me off-guard the first–" The rest of his words are drowned out by an angered sound from Wanda, who unleashes a dangerous wave of red at him. Going off of the intensity of the red, and Wanda's history of sudden temper, Clint is fully expecting the guy to explode in a billion pieces of bone and flesh. 

It hits the guy. He stumbles a step back, looking only slightly inconvenienced. "I was _talking._ " 

The response to his words comes out as a choked noise from Wanda. She's standing beside Steve, the pair of them a few feet ahead of Clint, and Steve turns to her, his brows immediately pulling into concern. Her body starts heaving, and Clint can barely make out the light wheezes coming out of her before he finds himself rushing to her.

"Wanda, what's going on?" Steve asks, a palm resting against her back. He doesn't get a response. Wanda brings her hands up to her throat, eyes blown out in horror as she convulses. Her lips are moving like she wants to talk, but all that comes out are strained wheezes escaping her throat in irregular patterns. "Wanda?"

Clint realizes what it is a moment too soon. "She can't breathe." 

"Oh?" The guy speaks up, in sudden piqued interest. "Is that what happens when you block someone's windpipe?"

"What the hell did you do?" Clint grits out just as Wanda reaches for Clint's shoulders to steady herself, nails digging into his sleeve. Her other hand is desperately clawing at her throat, her wheezing coming out harsher than before. 

"What did _I_ do?" The guy repeats. He looked almost offended at the accusation. "I was standing right here, in all my non-magic glory." 

"Stark," Clint grits out. Now he was _sure_ Stark has anti-magic devices across the Compound, but it's also just as possible that he implanted something on his friends' person. Wanda's magic had only ever failed when they were around – preventing her from reading them or even using her magic on them. On the other hand, Stark's device wasn't _as_ strong enough when compared to the full extent of her powers. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to attack him the first time. 

"Stark?" The guy repeats, and he sounds almost amused. "Believe me; I would be the first to know if he was even capable of magic." He cocks his head at Wanda, who then inhales sharply, and lets out a heavy exhale. She continues to heave like she just finished a marathon, no doubt relinquishing her suddenly cleared airways. "Is it so hard to believe your little Witch's powers are failing?" 

"Kyle," Steve says, looking every bit annoyed and _finally_ giving Clint the guy's name. Karl, Kyle - close enough. "This is not a joke. She could have _died_."

"Yes," Kyle hums and waves a hand in the direction of the caved-in wall. "And _please_ , by all means, throw my fragile mortal body into reinforced concrete again." 

"She didn't mean to hurt you," Steve defends, just as Wanda regains her footing and lets go of her hold on Clint. 

Kyle narrows his eyes in thought, looking away. "Was that the first time? Or the second time?" He wonders, projecting clear amounts of _no-fucks-given_ , and in the next moment, his eyes snap to them, flashing dangerously. "I forget." 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Clint asks, and Wanda uses that as a cue to launch her next attack, her hands and eyes glowing red. Kyle responds within a split second, doing a casual flick of his wrist the same time Wanda releases her magic. The red waves of magic hit an invisible wall around her, dissipates, and spreads along the sides in a curved shape. Almost like she was trapped. 

"He's an Enhanced." Steve realizes the same time Clint does. 

"Yeah, I figured." Clint looks at Wanda, her face brimming with a kind of confused anger, baffled at how someone had managed to rival her magic, but furious that they _did_ it anyway. She lets out a concentrated rush of magic from her hands, the panic in her rising and she does it again, and _again,_ while the red continuously dissipates within the invisible sphere that she's in. He waits for her to stop – not wanting to risk an amputated arm if he could help it – until he stretches a hand in Wanda's direction, only to find that his hand goes through wherever the wall is. Wanda's gaze snaps to Clint when he touches her, her expression a mixture of confusion and anger. 

"Clint," she says, and her voice is soft and shaky and _pleading_ and Clint wants to do nothing more than to just help her, _get her out_. He exchanges a worried glance with Steve: there's only so much they can do against an invisible, intangible force-field. 

"Friday?" Steve calls out, his eyes flicking to the ceiling, probably wondering the same thing Clint is: _why the hell hasn't this guy been blasted into pieces yet?_ Or maybe phrased in kinder terms. There's a sinking feeling in Clint that makes him wonder if Kyle had made Friday inactive somehow. It would make sense how he got past the Compounds security so easily.

Steve doesn't get the time to wait for a response – Clint doesn't think he'd have gotten one anyway – because Kyle disappears from where he was standing a few feet away, and in a way that should be _impossible,_ appears directly in front of Steve, keeping his face a deliberate inch apart – threatening and mocking at the same time. 

Kyle is looking at Steve like a predator looks at its prey. And, if Clint weren't absolutely _stricken_ by the fact that Kyle just vanished into thin air and popped right back into existence, he would have probably passed a joke about getting a room. 

Kyle's actions and behavior are of a man who knows he'll win – there's a kind of confidence oozing from him, the smug satisfaction that neither Wanda nor Steve nor Clint can take him down, and _hell_ if Kyle isn't relishing on that very thought. 

When Kyle speaks, his voice is sharp. Like the hiss of a kettle before it boils over. "Humor me, Captain," he says, and in an instant, has a vicious grip around Steve's neck. 

Clint is quick to the defense. " _Hey–_ " 

"Move, and your Captain's head will no longer be attached to his neck," Kyle interrupts casually, cutting Clint off and stopping him mid-step. The grip is strong enough that Steve's – _Captain America's –_ struggle is evident, painful grunts escaping from clenched teeth. 

Technically, _realistically,_ Clint would have let the empty threat pass into one ear and out the other, but he gets the distinct feeling they picked on the wrong guy, and by the looks of it, it's too late to apologize. Kyle's demeanor is eerily calm – no fear, no worry, nothing. This is a guy who knows he's powerful, a guy who just blocked all of Wanda's magic with a flick of his wrist. There's a small part of him that's grateful they're not around innocent civilians, where Kyle can just as easily lash out, but there's also a small part of him that regrets their lack of defense against the guy. The situation would probably have taken a whole new direction if Cap had his shield and Clint had his arrows. 

Kyle's eyes remain fixated on Steve as he cocks his head in morbid amusement. "What _was_ your intention? Other than property damage, of course." 

"We just wanted to talk," Steve grits out, hands reaching up to force Kyle's hand away, or at the least, lessen the pressure on his neck. Kyle lifts his hand, and it takes Clint a horrifying second to realize that Steve's feet weren't even touching the goddamn _floor,_ that Kyle was strong enough to single-handedly lift a 250-pound super-soldier by his _neck._ It's a clear display of power.

Kyle makes a disapproving noise. " _Lie_. I thought you better than this. If not for yourself, then at _least_ for the children." Kyle drops Steve, and Clint realized that it's not because he felt bad for Steve running out of air, but because he wanted his hands free for the dramatic gesture that came equipped with an equally dramatic: "Won't somebody _please_ think of the _children?!"_

Because he wanted to quote the _damn_ Simpsons. 

Steve, like Clint had expected, remains unaware of the reference. "Kyle," Steve breathes out, a hand rubbing the area that Kyle had nearly strangled him to death with. "You need to calm down. This was a misunderstanding."

"It was a misunderstanding on _your_ side," Kyle clarifies, dusting his hands like physical contact with Steve came at a personal loss. His words are measured. Controlled. He's angry, no doubt about that, but he's not lashing out verbally, and it makes it all the more harder to find a weak spot. "You assumed I could be manhandled into conversing with you." He smiles. "But I am hardly a man." 

"A piece of shit, is what you are," Clint mutters under his breath, but that's enough for Kyle to shift his attention towards him. He does the same psychotic disappearing act, except this time, the destination of arrival is smack in front of Clint's face. 

"Oh, Barton," Kyle says, managing to sound sad and look gleeful at the same damn time. "How _quickly_ you turned against me. You may have heart, but it is awfully fickle." 

The words strike a chord in him. 

"Why did you say that?" Clint demands. It's a callback to a statement once said to him, a long time ago, when death felt sure and inevitable– but that was before– 

He lunges at Kyle, hands reaching to grab his collar while his own words edge on panic. " _Why did you just say that?"_ Clint's hands grasps at nothing, palms passing through the shirt like it never existed in the first place until just straight up disappears.

"Why does anybody say anything?" comes Kyle's from behind him. Clint whirls around, a low growl escaping his lips. "Please," Kyle says dismissively. "The Witch ran into luck the first time. Fool me twice…" He trails off, a smug smile stretched out on his face. 

At Kyle's mention of her, Wanda lets out another cry and throws magic in his direction; the effort proved to be in vain when once again, like all other times, it clears upon impacting the invisible anti-magic sphere. 

"What's going on here?" Sam's voice reaches them, and Clint turns just in time to see Sam's eyes settle on the crumbling, caved-in wall. His eyes linger on it for a few seconds before he turns to see Steve, Clint and Wanda standing by as red leaks out of her fingertips, and Kyle – a stranger in the Compound – amidst them. Sam's face shifts and Clint gets the feeling Sam going to arrive at a conclusion that doesn't favor them very much.

"We haven't met," Kyle calls out from behind Clint, before anybody else can say anything. "I'm Kyle." 

"Kyle?" Sam echoes, and there's a flicker of recognition in his face. He starts walking towards them. "You're the guy Bucky talked about." 

"Well, it might be… awkward if I wasn't," Kyle supplies from over Clint's shoulder, and it itches him to have the guy standing so close when all Clint wants to do is snap his neck. He knows better than to actually go through with it, considering the guy just made Wanda powerless and nearly choked the Captain to death. His fingers twitch, suddenly missing the comfort and security his arrows provided – currently tucked away in his room. 

There's an odd look on Sam's face as he comes to a slow stop in front of the damaged wall. His gaze shifts to the damaged wall again, before they're locked on Wanda. Almost accusingly. 

Clint hears Kyle's sharp intake of breath. "This is interesting," Kyle points out in slow realization before Clint can voice out a defense. "It seems it was only the three musketeers after all." 

"Sam, you need to–" Steve starts, but Kyle isn't done speaking. 

"You have not a clue of what is happening here, do you?" Kyle asks, and Clint can sense the guy moving closer to where Steve's standing, posture tight and tensed. "Captain, if you could do the honors." 

Steve's jaw shifts in composed anger before he finally grits out. "There was a misunderstanding." 

Kyle makes a disapproving sound. "It seems I may have accidentally restricted blood flow to the Captain's brain." Kyle reaches his hand up, having the gall to flick the back of Steve's head like it might help. "His vocabulary is strangely limited." 

"You're a goddamn lunatic," Clint spits, which doesn't even get him a fraction of the reaction he'd expected. Kyle's eyes are transfixed on Sam, and a manic grin slowly forms on his face as he senses the shift in Sam's eyes and turns around to follow his gaze. 

"Ah. I was wondering when the pair of you would return," Kyle says. Nat and Barnes are standing at the end of the corridor – postures tensed – and Clint suddenly realizes that it's been almost ages since he last saw Nat. She had never been in her room when he sought her out, never came to the kitchen when he was there or been at the training area – where he'd often find her. The last conversation they had was with Steve, when Nat was nowhere on the same page as them when it came to discussing Tony. After that, even within the confines of the Compound, he never even saw her around.

For a moment, he considers the possibility if Nat had been actively avoiding him. 

"Buck," Steve says, taking a step in his direction, but he gets blocked by Kyle casually stepping in his path. There's warning in the movement in itself. The _bastard_. 

"Welcome. Excuse the decor." Kyle makes a point of turning and motioning to the caved-in wall. He stops, as if suddenly a thought struck him. "Or, on second thought." And Clint watches Kyle wave a casual hand at the wall, and the _damn_ wall shines a golden green, and it's back to looking like nothing even happened. The crumbs of the wall on the floor seemingly vanished into thin air. 

Clint stares at the apparent freshly constructed wall for what feels like ages.

_What in the goddamn hell is this guy?_

"Steve, what did you do?" is the first thing Barnes asks, and Steve's taken aback the same way Clint is because it sure _seemed_ like Barnes was _blaming_ Steve. 

"Buck, _what–_ I didn't do anything. Kyle _attacked_ us."

"The same way Stark attacked you?" Nat cuts into the conversation, her eyes as sharp as her words. 

Kyle's jaw drops in a delighted shock, soon followed by laughter. "Oh, I _like_ this!" He exclaims with a grin that shows all sets of teeth. Kyle looks around, eyes scanning over Steve, Wanda, Sam, Clint and looking utterly gleeful, "I'm sorry, does nobody else find this amusing?" 

"Stark attacked _us,"_ Steve corrects impatiently, ignoring Kyle's outburst. "Bucky, you know that." 

"I know you left him for dead." Barnes' response gets a pleased hum from Kyle. 

"Bucky," Steve replies firmly. "We're not talking about this now." 

"Then talk about why Barnes came searching for me. Or is that a discussion for a later time too?" 

"Nat, I wanted to find out about Tony. Things went out of hand." 

"If I may clarify his pathetic reasoning," Kyle says after having spent the last few exchanges silently responding with raised brows and mock surprise. "Your friend," He waves a hand at Steve while addressing Barnes. "The Captain – though I doubt you'll want to continue to consider him as such – sent you away so the Witch could attack me. Luckily, I am versed in my own field of self-defense." He turns and crouches in front of Wanda like she's a fascinating pet animal. He smiles. "Go on, Witch," he coerces. "Do your party trick." 

"Go to hell," Wanda spits out.

"I have," Kyle replies and straightens. "My daughter rules the realm. I'd be a bad father if I didn't visit." He shoots an amused look at Clint. "Don't you think so, Barton?"

"How the hell do you know about my kids?"

"It's no secret you left them to rot," Kyle answers with an air of nonchalance and Clint feels his blood boil in anger. He's once again forced to remind himself that there's no way he can make a move on the guy before he gets himself killed without hesitation. 

Kyle turns to Wanda and sighs. He looks almost disappointed. "It seems she's in a mood. Ah, well." Kyle makes a gesture with his wrist. "I'm kind enough to let bygones be bygones."

They wait in silence, unsure of what Kyle was implying this time, until a hesitant stream of magic out of Wanda's hand for her to realize she wasn't contained anymore. She glares at Kyle, and immediately her magic brightens – her goal clear – but Clint puts a hand out in front of her before she can do anything else that could rile Kyle up any more. Unfortunately for Clint, her determination is a lot stronger than her will-power, which is how there's a pulse of red magic hitting Kyle right in the middle of his chest. 

Kyle looks down at the point of impact. Looks up, and then: "You showed me," he deadpans. He cocks his head in thought, eyes narrowed, and then: "On second thought, you are turning into quite an inconvenience." 

"Don't touch her," Steve steps in. 

There's a look of disgust that crosses Kyle's face. "The _last_ thing I want to do is touch her. _"_

"You may be an Enhanced, but you can't take us all down at once," Steve says, and as much as Clint respects the Captain, he's gotta hand over the Worst Negotiator Award to him. 

"Captain, you might have to reconsider your usage of 'we'," Kyle says, turning to where Barnes and Nat are still standing. He shoots a wink in their direction like he suddenly thinks they're on the same team. 

There's the one moment where Kyle's distracted, and turned away, that Steve uses to pounce, grabbing Kyle in a choke-hold from the back. The next instant, almost like it was planned, Wanda's eyes glow red. She covers the distance between her and Kyle with a few steps, bright red leaking from her fingertips as she gets closer. 

"You should not have attacked me," Wanda says, her words acidic. There is controlled rage in her words, but Clint knows her enough that it's only a matter of time before she loses it. Training her to control her magic had become harder than any of them had hoped, and while there were moments they succeeded, her rage was something she couldn't control. They couldn't do anything about it either – her anger rooted from the death of her parents, which only amplified after her brother's death. 

There's a strange smile on Kyle's face which goes unnoticed by Wanda. Then she stops. Blinks. "What... _What_ are you doing?" Her hands reach up to hold her head. "Stop!" 

"Wanda, what is it?" 

"He's in my head," she grits out, glowing red palms tight against her head. "Get out!" 

"Clint. Sam," Steve says, eyes flitting between the two of them who had suddenly come closer to help Wanda. "Get out of here." 

Steve shifts to pass the warning to Barnes and Nat, who are still at the end of the corridor. They haven't moved an inch. Before Steve can say anything, Barnes speaks up. "You gonna kill him too, Stevie?" 

Clint can see the moment Steve's face falls, and his grip loosens. "Buck–" Steve starts, but his words are drowned out by a piercing shriek. 

"I said _get out of my head!_ " Wanda screams.

Clint sees red, and then all he sees is black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to have Clint's and Steve's POV, but I really wasn't sure where to split it without breaking the flow. Buuuuuut, Steve's POV is coming up next and it won't be long now. ;)
> 
> (not gonna lie, writing clint's pov was certainly a challenge, but hope you liked it!)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda felt bad because I promised a faster update, so here's a short 2k words of bitterness. I'll try to upload the next part soon! :D

“Welcome to the land of the living,” someone says from above him when Steve opens his eyes. “Population: 7.4 billion. Give or take a few million.” 

Steve blinks a few times, mind and vision clearing until he zeroes in on Tony standing over him. Steve blinks again, his mind immediately drawing to a conclusion that Tony's some kind of hallucination. He wasn't over the last time he saw Tony in close vicinity, bleeding profusely out his chest and blaming Steve for everything that happened between them.

This Tony looks calmer. This Tony isn't bleeding out of his chest.

This Tony is leaning against the wall; hands loosely crossed over his front. There’s a red tube coming out of his collar, extending into a vertical stand on his left – wheels and all – with unrecognizable equipment attached to it. The little screen on the machine is scattered with meaningless numbers, and Steve can hear a low, steady beep coming from it. 

This is _real_. So far, at least.

“Tony?” Steve sits up, his mind suddenly alert. Tony’s been _alive_ the entire time. And more than that, he was _fine._

So much for Rhodes saying Tony was on life support. Steve had been right to assume Tony just didn’t want to see them. It had taken an Enhanced attack under their own roof, an attack that nearly _killed_ Wanda, for Tony to make an appearance.

Apparently, that’s all there is to it — just a physical appearance. Tony doesn’t even look the least bit concerned or worried at their well-being. Steve feels a frown forming on his face, that even after _all this,_ Tony still doesn’t _care._

Tony catches the look on Steve’s face, and before Steve can say anything, the man makes a disgruntled noise and looks away like he doesn’t want to be an audience to whatever is on Steve’s mind. Steve purses his lips in chagrin. It hasn’t even been five seconds since Tony’s showed up, and he’s already found a dozen ways to tick Steve off. 

It’s in that moment of revelation that Steve looks around and eyes land on Sam’s unconscious body. _Unconscious,_ because he can see the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, lying right where he was previously standing. Right before he’d told Sam and Clint to leave. 

He sees Clint next, unconscious and lying a few feet away – next to where Wanda is sitting upright.

Relief floods inside him. She's _awake._ Her back is pressed against the wall with her knees pulled close to her chest.

The relief soon transitions to worry.

There’s crazed fear in her face, and her whole body is shaking, lips moving incomprehensibly. 

“Wanda?” Steve asks softly, which gets him no response. Her eyes are glazed over. She doesn’t look like she’s heard Steve at all, much less even conscious of her surroundings. It reminds Steve of when he had seen her in the Raft, terrified and barely hanging on to the last thread of her sanity, because someone had _put_ her there. 

There’s only one person Steve knows who’s had it out for Wanda since the day they met, and he’s standing right next to Steve. “What did you do to her?” He demands, the quick movement of his head creating a muddle in his mind. It’s only then that he realizes his head feels strangely heavy. “What... happened to the others?” 

“She did it to herself,” Tony offers unhelpfully, still looking away somewhere to the left. “And to the others.” Tony turns to look at Steve when it seems like a thought just struck him. “Speaking of which, you have competition now. She’s leading on attempted murders at the moment. Five-one.”

Steve tries to push down the anger sizzling inside him. Tony was deliberately trying to rile him up, voicing out whatever jabs he can just to poke at Steve’s temper. Sure, Steve was over the fact that Tony may not be able to let go of the past. He knew Tony was equally at fault for what went down, that Tony was just finding difficulty in accepting it. 

But this? It’s the first time Steve’s seen Tony in _ages_ , and the man was being unreasonably hostile. There’s no explanation other than the fact that Tony just wants to be petty for the sake of being petty.

They’ve been here for an entire week, after three months of radio silence, living under the _same_ roof, and Tony had made absolutely no effort to just reach out to his teammates. Not even a casual greeting in passing. There were only so many steps Steve could make before Tony made his first step. 

Tony’s just standing there like he couldn’t care less about the impact he made on the team. 

“You don’t even _care_ ,” Steve spits out, moving to stand up so he can look the man in the eye. “You–” 

“Captain.” Someone speaks up from the direction Tony’s been looking at the whole time. _Kyle._ “I wouldn’t recommend you getting closer.”

It’s only then that Steve notices Natasha and Bucky are awake. They’re where they last were, at the end of the corridor, except Natasha’s on the floor, elbows resting on her half stretched-out knees and leveling Steve with a deadly glare. Bucky’s standing, not even looking at Steve and taking something that Kyle’s offering him. Bucky’s back is to Steve, positioned in a way that Steve can’t make out whatever’s being exchanged. 

“What are you giving him?” Steve asks. 

Kyle doesn’t even look in his direction. “Dihydrogen monoxide,” comes the monotonous response, and Tony lets out an amused snort. To Steve's annoyance, he spots the man resisting a smile - another attempt to aggravate Steve. 

“Bucky, don’t,” Steve tries again, standing and making his way over to where Bucky is. “You can’t trust him.” 

Kyle lets out an insufferable sigh and looks over Steve’s shoulder. “Anthony, please shut him up.” 

_Anthony?_

Steve turns at the man in question. “You know this guy?” 

“Course I do,” Tony offers like it hadn’t been obvious already. “He’s my friend.”

Steve doesn’t think he heard him right. 

“Friend? All those weeks I spent courting you–” 

“It’s not like I’d think a _god_ would be hitting on me.”

The exchange flies over Steve's head, the only thing in his mind being that Tony had _brought a hostile into the Compound._

“Tony, what’s wrong with you?” Steve cuts in, unable to register the fact that Tony’s willingly friends with the guy. Not just that, the guy seems to act like he’s well within his rights to administer some incomprehensible, undoubtedly dangerous dosage to Bucky, while Tony just stands by and watches. Like it’s a joke. “He _attacked_ us, and you’re just– you continue to just _keep_ him around. He could have killed Wanda.” 

“He attacked you?” Tony looks at Steve, and his words sound completely genuine until he adds: “What, because you were having such a _friendly_ conversation before that?” 

“He was being hostile when he had no reason to,” Steve accuses, shooting a glance at Kyle who’s now in conversation with Bucky. And Bucky’s _responding_ without even a second thought of what the guy just did to them.

“You’re joking,” Tony deadpans, drawing Steve’s attention back to Tony. “This is a joke. I cannot for a _second_ compromise my sanity and _actually_ think you’re serious. _You_ wanted to mind-whammy him, so _you_ cornered him, and when that didn’t work, Wanda _threw_ him into my damn wall.” 

“It wouldn’t have happened had he cooperated in the first place. We just wanted to talk to him.” 

“Oh, now you are definitely joking. I didn’t think you had a single funny bone in your body, Cap. And look at you, proving me wrong time and time again.” Tony cocks his head in wonder. “You know what would be great? If everyone knew how _hilarious_ Captain America is. Fri, pull out the past hour’s footage. Make sure you get the part where Steve says my friend here was being hostile, followed by the snippet of said friend being thrown against the wall. That’ll be sure to earn some laughs. Whaddya think, Cap?”

Steve shoots him a pitiful smile. “Always have to be funny, don’t you?” 

“Is that your defense?” Tony asks, and he actually looks surprised. “You choose _now_ to bring up my award-winning humor?” 

“You don't have to pretend that a conversation centered around you is the last thing you want,” Steve shoots right back. He doesn’t even hesitate; he’d seen Tony’s response coming from a mile away. 

“Unlike you, I know how to prioritize things and _people_ according to the situation,” Tony says pointedly like the words are supposed to mean something to Steve. “You consider yourself to be the embodiment of righteousness and justice, used it to belittle me for all the lives lost from my weapons business when you, dear Cap, risked killing a civilian, only because they stood up to you.”

Tony’s accidental mention of Kyle being a civilian is all that Steve needs. “But he’s not a civilian, is he?” Steve asks, and he feels almost triumphant at the annoyed look that crosses Tony’s face. 

“That’s _far_ from the point,” Tony shoots right back; almost annoyed. _Steve got him._ “You launched an _attack_ on the Compound on a civilian and that too, with absolutely no regard for public property. In fact, Friday has the entire conversation where the three of you were actively planning to use Wanda’s magic against one of my friends.”

“That was just in case things went south,” Steve explains, annoyed. It’s one thing for Friday to not interfere when Kyle was blatantly attacking them, but it was a whole other situation knowing that Tony was using Friday to listen in on their private conversations. Friday hadn’t even answered Steve’s call when Kyle had attacked Wanda.

In all honesty, he wouldn’t be surprised if Tony made Friday with a blatant disregard for human life. Wasn’t that how Ultron happened in the first place? 

“And did it?” Tony snaps. “ _Did_ things go south? His choice to retain information isn’t an excuse for you to launch an aggravated assault.” 

And just as Steve expected, leave it to Tony to be a hypocrite.

Steve takes a step forward, and Tony responds by lifting his chin in defiance. Challenging brown eyes are fixated on Steve. Unwavering. 

Steve lets out a dry chuckle before speaking. “Listen to yourself. You did the same thing in Siberia – you wanted to _kill_ Bucky – but when it happens to _your_ friend, suddenly it’s a crime again?” Steve asks rhetorically. “The world doesn’t turn according to your convenience, Tony.” 

“I’m sorry, did _we_ murder your parents and proceed to cover it up?” Tony retaliates, and there’s a sudden movement to the left that gets Steve’s attention. Kyle’s standing there, his casual posture serving as an oxymoron to the eyes shooting literal daggers at Steve. Steve gets the feeling this is Kyle’s attempt to be threatening again, but he doubts Kyle would attack when Tony’s right here. Tony continues, “The information was retained because _my_ personal life is none of _your_ damn business.” 

Says Tony Stark, who spends half his time hacking SHIELD servers and agent data. Steve decides not to bring it up for the sake of being the bigger man. He sighs. “This wouldn’t have happened if you would have just responded to us.”

“I am not your _pet_ , Rogers,” Tony snaps in response, which wasn’t what Steve meant at all. “I don’t have to lick the very floor you walk on, nor do I have to answer your every call.” 

“Nobody said you had to,” Steve says before Tony can do another back-flip while jumping into the next conclusion. “But harboring an Enhanced in the Compound is in direct violation of the Accords,” Steve finishes, ending it by looking at Kyle. He spots Bucky slowly making his way towards the three of them, Natasha close behind. 

“Enhanced? Who’s an Enhanced?” Tony asks, and looks at Kyle with wide, innocent eyes. “Kyle?” He turns to Steve. “He’s just a kid.”

“He’s not _just a–”_

“I mean, unless he did something Enhance-ish _after_ Maximoff’s magic destroyed the footage.” Tony turns to Kyle with faux innocence. “When was that?”

“After I was thrown at the wall,” Kyle answers, a smug grin pulling at the corners of his lips. 

“Ah, yes,” Tony says, matching Kyle’s grin on his own face before he turns to Steve. There’s a glint in Tony’s eyes as he continues to address Kyle. “ _After_ you were attacked without reason.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god. Writing Steve’s POV while trying to make Tony look bad at the same time ended up with me actually considering writing “his shit brown eyes.”  
> Y’ALL. 😆

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! :)


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